


Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Princess

by outislanders



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-09-29 17:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outislanders/pseuds/outislanders
Summary: Following the death of her father, and disappearance of her brother; Lena Luthor, usually away from the spotlight, finds herself in line for the British throne.Upon an unlikely friendship with Kara Danvers, a bakery owner and aspiring singer-songwriter with an overwhelmingly kind heart, her life is threatened in more ways than one.





	1. Frogmore

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh hi, me again, is the title cheesy??? i wanted something from lover and thought this fit lmao. also, i thought making kara more of a bakery owner would mean a more interesting dynamic and i'm gonna include songs i personally love and original lyrics too, although not for ages because i love slow burns... so there's that

Lena looked down toward the flimsy piece of paper in her shaking hands, the words beginning to blur from the unshed tears in her eyes. Even without the courageous ability to reread it, the words had already been etched in her mind, echoing louder with each breath. Lena ran a pale, slender hand through her slightly knotted dark hair, trying to steady her breathing. The woman had never been one for emotions. However, the past few years had made her critically evaluate the way that she viewed herself, and with that, came tears despite how much she hated herself for it. She dialled the number that she still hadn’t forced herself enough to forget, praying it was still the same as the day they first met when she messily scribbled the numbers onto the inside of her hand.

The phone rang, the dial tone beginning to match the speed of her heartbeat whilst she lightly chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“God, I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered to the empty room, hoping the words would force someone to barge through the door and for them to tell her she should or agree with that small voice in her mind that told her she shouldn’t. For a moment, she even hoped the walls could provide an answer.

The drumming of her fingers ceased when the dial tone ended. ‘_Hi, you’ve reached Kara, sorry I couldn’t answer_.’ Lena released the breath she had been holding, her shoulders fell with the relief that the number hadn’t changed. She savoured the honey-sweet tone of the voice that sounded just as clear as she remembered it from so long ago, as if they had only spoken yesterday. ‘_Leave me a message and I promise I’ll get back to you as soon as I can_.’

_Promise_. Lena usually hated that empty, meaningless word, but for now it was her only focus. There was a small beep allowing her to know she was able to leave a message. Lena thought of hanging up, of ending the call, blocking the number and acting as if she didn’t even call at all. But she told herself that _maybe_ Kara would answer, maybe she’d return the call, and that sliver of hope tied together with a near meaningless promise meant the world.

She found the words spilling out of her mouth before her mind was given the ability to catch up. “Hi Kara, it’s only me. It’s still not going to be enough and I _know_ that but I’m _so_ sorry for everything I’ve put you through, I hope you’re well. I- I know you said not to call, and I shouldn’t but-” she inhaled a sharp breath, “I just wanted to hear your voice, and I didn’t know who else to talk to... but Kara, it’s ba-”

The phone beeped again, and her words were immediately cut off.

“_It’s back_,” she whispered to herself, and the words that echoed throughout her mind, were finally spoken aloud.

* * *

There wasn’t much for Lena to do other than walk the grounds of the Frogmore Estate. Every morning, she would wake and circle the winding gravelled paths, regardless of the weather, with a hope that one day she might discover something new, but even in around four hundred years, nothing had changed. The tall white-stoned building that overlooked the small bow lake was her favourite part of the whole of the grounds. It was private in a way that every other royal residence wasn’t. The press couldn’t lurk around the corner or in hidden locations. It wasn’t necessarily perfect either, but it was enough for now. On days like today, rolling dark clouds sometimes gave way to patches of sunlight that warmed her ivory skin when she was lucky enough for the sun to reach her. Lena veered off the path. The gardens were yet to bloom, with the short, damp grass flattening under each of her steps, and the bare trees provided perfect resting spots for the birds that sang as she walked. The seasons were on the cusp of changing, as if the cold of winter was beginning to fight the warmth of spring that attempted to prevail. She hated spring, and the idea of something new, when it just meant another year of the same dreary routine that she longed to leave.

Lena passed the mausoleum, where she would often play hide and seek with her older brother, Lex, to the family, and Alexander, to the world. When they were younger, they constantly dared each other to spend ten seconds or more inside of the building on the few Halloween’s that they would spend on the estate, and his stories of the ghosts of their ancestors that wandered from midnight to three fifteen in the morning _exactly_ on Halloween often terrified her as a child, but now they were another loving memory she had. Lex had organised their own version of trick-or-treat on the same days, as they were unable to wander the streets with the other children. He would have some members of the staff dress up in costumes from werewolves to vampires, and they two siblings would walk around the corridors dressed in their own homemade costumes, knocking on the various doors for countless sweets and all the chocolate they could think of. Lena would have never admitted it, but those were the days she missed the most. Her brother was her favourite person in the world, and even with the pressures and knowledge that came with being heir to the throne of England, Lex managed it with a calm head, and to Lena, that was one of his most admirable traits and one that was often used against her with Lena’s constant battles with their mother, Lillian, about the reputation of the family that she was destroying.

Eventually, Lena returned to the house, pacing the long corridor with its deep red diamond patterned carpets, she turned the corner and hiked the wooden steps. Despite her love of the outside, the inside looked as if it hadn’t changed since the seventeenth century. She passed the odd butler, receiving curt nods as she did so. Being constantly around the staff, as well as the ones who specialised in the Luthor’s public relations, was exhausting for the woman. It was as if they were all waiting for her to make her next move, like a game of chess where they would inevitably be fixing and justifying all of her _constant blunders_ as her mother chose to call them, making them seem more manageable when handing details over to the public relations staff.

Lena had settled onto the floor in her room, with a pillow under her chin, choosing her favoured copy of _Anna Karenina_ to reread. The spine was well beyond broken, and a few pages had accidentally ended up dog-eared, but it had always been one of her favourite classics. The woman was interrupted by a quick knock at the door. Setting her book aside, she rose to answer. When Lena opened the door, no one was there, she peeked her head around the corner, greeted by long, dark chestnut hair and her friend’s signature Cheshire cat grin, which she immediately returned.

“Okay… I’ve brought wine, and the trashiest magazines ever.” Sam held out two bottles of wine to Lena. If there was one thing Lena could count on, it was Sam to make light of any situation.

Sam was Lena’s best friend, her closest confidante and one of the only people who actually visited her. It wasn’t that people rarely tried to befriend her, it was just that any friendships were often superficial, or for some type of benefit to the other person. With Sam, everything was different. She was like Lena’s sister, they had known each other for the better part of a decade, and their relationship was one that Lena treasured the most. Even in the loneliest of places, she had her, through every scandal, every bad word, and every hardship, there was one person she could truly depend on. Sam was a baroness’s daughter, her mother being overseas a lot meant that they had ample time to spend together, and sharing a slight loathing of their separate, yet _almost_ identical situations made their friendship almost instant. They met at a dinner one night when Lena was trying to bribe the orchestral band to play Toto’s _Africa_, or ABBA’s _Dancing Queen_ when the event was held on Lillian’s birthday, which even as a child, Lena found hilariously ironic, since her mother was neither queen nor anywhere near seventeen.

Sam quickly flopped onto the bed as Lena rested her back against the foot of it, returning to sit on the floor. “Why do people even get paid to write these?” Lena asked, taking a few of the magazines from her friend, and quickly scanning the covers. “It’s such a waste of someone’s time and talent.”

“Well because people like us buy them.”

“We wouldn’t buy them if we weren’t in them.”

“That’s a lie.”

Lena glanced at the magazines, _Hello!_ and _Take a Break_ spread out in front of her. Her eyes widened and she grabbed one of the magazines holding it above her head so that her friend could see. “Sam look, we’ve made the cover of _Hello!_ again ‘Double Trouble Hits Up Soho House Once More’.” The media had once assigned the nickname Double Trouble to the two young women, when they would be out almost every night in central London. Now, Lena rarely leaving any royal grounds seemed to be something to write about apparently.

“Hardly,” Sam scoffed, “we were there for all of five minutes.”

The dark-haired woman took a long swig of her red wine. “Here’s an article for Lex, ‘England’s Most Eligible Bachelor Snatched Up!’” The disdain in Lena’s voice was evident as she rolled her eyes.

Sam giggled, “Oh, no! However will all of us single ladies cope!”

“I just can’t believe that he’s going to be married soon.” Lena spat.

“He’ll be on the throne one day…” Sam turned over the page of one of the magazines she was scrutinising, “it was bound to happen at some point.”

“This is ridiculous, and you know it.” Lena said.

“What? You don’t believe in romance?” Sam asked, stifling a laugh.

“It’s not romance if it’s for some bloody alliance.” Lena huffed, throwing the magazines to one side, she rested her head against the bed.

“God, Lena, you are _such_ a pessimist.”

“We don’t even need any allies!” The emerald-eyed woman gestured wildly with her hands, “It’s not the sixteen hundreds, we barely do anything anymore!”

“If it was, you’d be married off to a French prince by now.”

“Lucky me,” Lena smirked.

After they had completed their rounds of the glossy magazines, and one bottle of red wine, Lena was desperate for something to eat, especially the junk food that usually accompanied Sam’s visits. “Pizza?” She asked, knowing the answer already.

Sam folded her hands behind her head, “You know me too well.”

“You brought the drinks, the least I can do provide is the food.” Lena replied, receiving a triumphant nod from Sam who was busying herself with one of the crosswords at the back of a magazine.

Lena stood, and moved to the desk, she picked up the plastic landline, and punched in the numbers for the local pizzeria, Sebastian’s. She was quickly greeted by a young man’s voice. “Hi, can I order a large meat lovers pizza for delivery please?”

_“Of course, that’ll be nine pounds ninety-five, including delivery. What’s the name and address?”_

“It’s for Lena at Frogmore House.”

_“Frogmore?”_ The man questioned, the usual suspicion in his words.

“Yes, the estate about two miles east of-”

_“If this is some sort of prank-”_

When the two women first started ordering food from the nearby town, they were often threatened with police action, or the phone was cut off when they had told their delivery address. This pizzeria was the only one that agreed on the terms that they had provided payment upfront rather than when the delivery driver would arrive, but even then, it was still a hardship. “It’s not a prank.”

The other end of the phone went quiet for a moment, and Lena heard the scuttering in the background and muffled voices she assumed were questioning whether to disconnect the all or not. _“I’ll need you to pay upfront. Do you have a card?”_

“Yes.” Lena effortlessly reeled off the numbers from her credit card that she had quickly memorised from ordering the same thing over and over again with Sam.

_“Thank you, _Lena_.”_ The man said, dragging the letters of her name a little longer than necessary. _“It’ll be twenty-five minutes.”_

“Thanks.”

After what felt like hours, Sam bundled herself into one of the thick coats that hung in Lena’s wardrobe, and quickly went outside to collect their pizza, just outside the gates of the estate. They had spent the rest of the night laughing and sharing old stories, as was the usual routine when they would meet and they couldn’t watch Sam’s personal favourite show, _The Great British Bake Off_, on the television. Even together, there was still not much for either of them to do, other than plan outrageously unrealistic scandals, such as Lena marrying someone who her parents disapproved of, or Sam hosting a free bar for the whole of London on some gigantic bar crawl with a foam or paint party thrown into the mix. Realistically, the events were practically normal, and what everyone else their age experienced at university, or on holiday during the right of passage trip to Ibiza, but they enjoyed the idea of it regardless. Sam would often tell Lena of people she had gone on dates with when they hadn’t seen in each other in months, sparing no detail whatsoever, regardless of how much Lena pleaded with her to skip. Sam had fallen asleep by the time the daylight had given way to the night, much quicker than anticipated and Lena had returned to her book, disturbed by another knock at the door.

Mercy stood a little taller than Lena, light brown hair flowing a little past her shoulders, and any formalities had disappeared long before Lena had been relocated to the Frogmore estate, but her usual demeanour of a straight posture around Lena was yet to go.

“Mercy!” Lena folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Mercy, mercy me. You haven’t stopped by in ages. Tell me, what have I done now?”

“Just a passing visit at the minute, Lena. Here,” Mercy handed Lena two thick plastic folders, which weighed her arms down much more than she had expected. “I’ve also seen that you stopped by at SoHo House whilst under borderline house arrest. _Without_ me.” Even less than several years older than Lena, she had become a glorified babysitter of sorts. As ex-military personnel, Lena’s mother deemed her the perfect person to look out for her and join her on her usual trips outside. What her mother _didn’t_ know, was that Mercy and Lena had a lot more in common than she could have ever imagined.

“Please,” Lena adjusted the folders in her arms and waved off Mercy’s concerns, “we barely went inside, and anyway, Lillian just hates anyone to have fun whilst they’re busy planning Lex’s marriage.”

Mercy stifled a laugh, “Well you know I can’t _officially_ agree with you.” She gestured to the folders in the shorter woman’s arms, “But there’s two there, one for the both of you.”

“What’s in them? More damage control?”

“The usual. Facts about everyone you’re meeting when the wedding is in full swing, including who they are exactly… and I beg you, please, do not start another argument with the American President. Please, not again.”

Lena’s eyebrow rose, “It was a _debate_,” she corrected. Over a year ago, Lena had heard of the comments that the President had made, in particular, the ones that were derogatory to women and were overtly racist. Using the benefit of home territory, she had taken it upon herself to ask for a coherent explanation. Instead, she had received a mouthful of lies, and excuses, to which the brunette had ended up telling him of facts, as politely as she could, as well as advocating for the right of the citizens that the man should care for, but clearly didn’t. She talked of how inspiring she found the Time’s Up movement, as well as the Women’s March, which she quietly wished she could have publicly or physically encouraged if everything she did wasn’t so closely monitored. After mentioning how disgusting she found his stance on the U.S.-Mexico border, as well as his comments of the people it affected, things swiftly escalated to the point where she _accidentally_ insulted the man, and his entire demeanour, to the extent that she was no longer invited, or allowed to attend any more events until it was clear that she would not be in the same room as the man she clearly despised. If it wasn’t for Mercy, Lena was sure she would have thrown an entire glass of champagne over him, ripped his blonde straw looking hair piece from his tangerine-like head, or thrown him into the Tower of London if given the opportunity. Although the palace had managed to tightly contain the story, Lena didn’t escape her mother’s wrath, calling her both volatile and reckless and a danger to the family, but Lena always chose to ignore that part.

“Then please don’t _debate_ with any of the dignitaries again, they can’t keep digging you out of the holes you land yourself in…” Mercy’s demeanour softened at her own words, and the corner of her mouth rose into a smile, “No matter how right you _may_ have been.”

Lena sighed, “Fine. Smile and nod, I can do that.”

“You’re going to have to learn all of it.” Mercy quietly said.

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. Everything you need is in the red folder, and Samantha’s is the purple one.”

“Well isn’t that terrific.” Lena groaned.

Once Mercy had left, Lena placed the folders onto the desk at the other corner of her room, making a small thud with the weight of the papers. The woman had decided to give up on her book for the moment, in case she was interrupted for a third time, and went to look through the folders.

Lena tapped her pen against the thick folder. Studying was something she did well, but studying _people_ was a whole different scenario. She could usually gage someone’s personality, and their intentions quicker than they could introduce themselves, but having to recall interests, or facts, and even possible conversation starters that someone had thought to include in the binders for her alone, was nothing short of bizarre and painfully boring. But Lena needed to do this, she had to, her brother was counting on her after all and she couldn’t afford to make another mistake.


	2. Unification in Europe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!!! it's been a while and as such i'm also gearing up for sbb and the new trailer today which i hope features a lot of supercorp

With the wedding between Lex and Rachael, the granddaughter of the Queen of Denmark, looming, both families had been making their final preparations for the day. Rachael was someone who knew of the expectations that being part of a royal family involved, and despite being an arranged marriage, she had a friendly relationship with each member of the Luthor household.

Lena had also been spending more time at Buckingham Palace, with the onset of what was constantly described as a day of ‘_Unification_ _in_ _Europe_’ by the press. It wasn’t that she had moved back into her old room or spent family dinners surrounded by the other three members of the Luthor’s as she used to. They had required a long list of briefings that included what would be happening on the day, the protocol to follow, and who would be leading the procession once Lex and Rachael had officially been married, such as the horses, and the guards. Along with other members of staff, Lillian and Lionel had been deciding on who would go in which car, who would arrive when and the usual boring stuff that didn’t interest the young woman in the slightest.

Before leaving the palace to head back home to Frogmore, Lena was sitting in one of the many ornate drawing rooms with her mother and father. It was all white walled, with golden patterns carved into the ceiling, and a chandelier as large as her entire room in the other residence. Paintings with matching elaborate frames of distant relatives whose names were ingrained into the family’s legacy hung on each wall, as if watching and waiting for someone to make a costly mistake. She often wondered if her father’s portrait would be hanging in some distant room a hundred years into the future, being one of the only British Kings to have ever married someone of his own choosing who was of no royal standing, with Lillian being a highly successful business owner in her own right.

She had been given a finalised list of the people outside of the peerage system who were attending the wedding, with the aim of which was to further familiarise herself with the guests that weren’t covered in the original folders. Her eyes widened, “Beyoncé _and_ George Clooney in one room?! Oh my god this is going to be amazing.”

Lillian closed her book, removed her reading glasses, and set both on her lap. “Well, they’re all a friend of the family.”

Lena scrutinised the rest of the page, nodding her approval at people such as Oprah, and Elton John. Her eyes stopped scanning the piece of paper and she met her mother’s cold, watchful gaze. “You’re inviting Kanye West to the wedding?” Lena groaned, “How pitiful.”

Lillian’s jaw visibly clenched, and her lips were set in a grim line. “Lena, dear. The guest list has already been arranged-”

“He’s an arsehole, and he supports that-”

“Lena.” Lionel interrupted with a slight warning to his voice.

“You need better guests,” the young woman shrugged, and placed the bundle of pages onto one of the side tables.

“He’s already accepted,” Lillian returned to her book, and lowered her voice whilst she adjusted her glasses, “and so has the American President.”

Lena waved her mother’s words off dismissively, “Tell them it got cancelled. Tell them we changed the date or the venue. Whatever you want.”

Lionel laughed, “Maybe you have a head for diplomatic relations after all.”

“If it’s excuses you both want, I have plenty.” Lena responded with a triumphant nod.

“That’s not news to anyone, Lena.”

Lena rolled her eyes, “Thanks, mother.”

That night, Lena had gone back to Frogmore, with her driver, Frank, picking Sam up on the way back. Over the last few days, both young women had scrutinised their respective files, featuring small photos of people inside which Lena had scribbled on the back of, with who the person was exactly, as if she were studying for another exam with the aid of flashcards.

When they were back inside the familiarity of Lena’s bedroom, the brunette held up a photo of a young man with dark hair, brown eyes and a handlebar moustache that made him appear much older. She narrowed her eyes in question, “Name and title?”

“He looks like a Richard.” Sam took a swig of her gin and tonic, making the ice cubes clink against the glass, “Maybe a viscount?”

“A what?” Lena quizzed.

“A viscount,” Sam repeated, slowing her words for her friend to understand.

“I have no idea what that is.”

Sam craned her neck toward Lena. “Didn’t you have to attend classes to learn all of this stuff?”

“Yes, but I prefer science not _this_.” Lena shook her head and flipped the image over. “Anyway, nice try but Richard’s a Johnathan and he’s a Lord.”

Sam scoffed, “‘Lord Johnathan’ sounds like a bore.”

\---

Two weeks before the wedding, Rachael had talked of her wish to attend a proper bachelorette party, one that could be as close to normal as they could manage, and with that, bachelorette and bachelor parties were swiftly arranged.

Rachael was without any immediate female siblings, so with the assistance of a few of her cousins, Sam and Lena had organised a bachelorette party for her. Although the plan was to do the cheesiest thing they could, and go to Las Vegas together, they settled for a small bar crawl throughout Mayfair. As a group of fifteen, it was easier for them to arrange security, taking Mercy along with them. Rachael stood as tall as Sam, with long golden hair and piercing blue eyes, that seemed to shine much more when paired with her signature cherry red lipstick. They wore matching t-shirts, saying ‘_Royal Wedding 2019_’, they would’ve preferred something more neon, playful and less conservative, but this is what they were permitted.

Clark, a friend from Lex’s university, and one of the only members of the Palace’s press team to have a close relationship with the heir, had planned the bachelor party with other close friends. From what they heard, it seemed to be much less exciting than what the women did. They drank in random pubs and ended the night at a golf course.

Families and friends had exchanged gifts a few days after the respective parties for both Lex and Rachael. Lena had searched every aspect of the internet for a suitable gift. Instead, she settled on a tea towel with their faces on and a matching plate. She had thought of buying the couple something specific to them, but as was the usual expectance, any gifts that weren’t something which was sentimental, or completely different we’re somewhat pointless to a family who had everything they could possibly want at their hands. These types of gifts, in addition to cards, were seen as having something of a more special value as they had their own sentimental and personal attachment to them. The couple had also received a home in the countryside of Dorset from the Luthor’s, as well as an entire nature reserve in their name from Rachael’s family.

\---

Exhausted and still reeling from what seemed to be a week-long hangover, Lena had been reading one of the newly published scientific journals regarding quantum mechanics, specifically the theory of quantum entanglement, and what was described as the first ever photo that showed the theory in full. It was one concept she adored, coined as ‘_spooky action at a distance_’ by Einstein, that despite the usual finality of such understandings of space and distance, two particles can be inextricably linked together, and a change in one, induces a change in the other. To see such a thing in an image of an interaction between two photons, made her feel like a child on Christmas. She pulled her dark hair into a messy ponytail, and upon hearing a knock at her bedroom door, she rose to answer with a small huff at being interrupted.

Lena opened the door, immediately greeted by her brother. “So,” the woman folded her arms, “what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to the dark side?”

“Walk with me?” Lex asked.

Lena wordlessly nodded. From the way her brother’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something to focus on, she knew not to ask questions. After she had stepped into a pair of dark flats, she led him around the same trails they had wandered as children. The gardens were looking much better, buds grew on most of the flowers, and the once dark silhouettes of branches were now dotted with the beginnings of green leaves. With the lingering morning dew, their footsteps caused gentle imprints in the grass once they abandoned the path. They stopped once they reached the bank of the small lake and sat next to one another on the ground.

Lex lay down and closed his eyes, relaxing as the sun warmed his skin. “This place hasn’t changed at all.”

The brunette wanted to laugh. It hadn’t changed in the slightest. Not the décor, and certainly not the surroundings or the people. But here she was, sent off to a far part of the south for what was described as _temporary damage control_ but ended up being her life for the past couple of years. He had no idea what had changed and what hadn’t. She assumed there was no point in her mentioning that, as the only person to blame for her current situation was herself. “You know you don’t have to go through with any of this if you don’t want to, right?” Lena wondered aloud, picking absentmindedly at the short grass.

Lex released a slow breath, instantly understanding what his sister meant. “I can’t not do this, you know that.”

“You could abdicate,” the woman suggested. Her voice took on a slight meekness as she rubbed the back of her neck, “When dad eventually-”

“And then the throne would be yours, and I know you don’t want it.” Lex interrupted.

Following a sharp, indrawn breath, the young woman thought to herself, _no one wants that_, _not just me_. “So, we all abdicate until there’s none of us left.” Lena nudged his arm with her foot, “Problem solved.”

Lex slowly eased his eyes open, allowing them to adjust to the sunlight. “I just want to do something good, and by what will happen tomorrow, hopefully something truly good will come out of it.”

Lena rolled her emerald eyes at her brother’s words. To her, he sounded as if he were giving some type of speech at a conference. “Yeah- I mean we totally need an ally with Europe, I guess. These _are_ trying times.”

“Lena-”

“You’re going to do great Lex, and you’ve always wanted to help people and do good. I believe in you; you that I always have.” She had always admired his tenacity more than anything else, as well as his ability to advocate for the wellbeing and promotion of charities that were smaller and lesser known. Lex had often spoke of his wish for the family to support such causes, and little by little, with his words, they eventually did.

Lex, ignoring his sister’s comments, sat up and stretched his neck. He rested his head on his hand, “Can I be frank with you for a moment?”

A look of confusion flickered over the young woman’s face, “Of course-”

Lex’s eyes fell toward the ground, “I just don’t think you should go to the wedding, Lena.”

Lena blinked in surprise, and her eyebrow rose in question. “I’m not going to do anything- I just want you and Rachael to be happy.”

“It’s not that, I couldn’t care less if you did. It isn’t-”

“You’re my brother, Lex. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Lex slowly nodded as he allowed his sister’s words to settle. He knew there was no use in arguing with Lena, so he decided not to reverberate a point he was yet to mention. Instead, they remained sitting side by side for the remainder of the afternoon.

\---

The day of the wedding dawned with crystalline skies and the only clouds that were visible would likely disappear into wispy nothings by the time everyone was to leave for Westminster Abbey. It was the middle of spring, and although heavy downpours would have been expected at this time of year, the weather had been great, and borderline _perfect_. The weather in itself was taken by the separate families to mean something good was on the horizon.

Everything that had been planned to be indoors, such as the wedding reception and the official photographs of the newly extended royal family, were all moved to the gardens of Buckingham Palace, and the staff immediately ran in the early morning to ready the tables, and fix the lighting. It was rare for any such thing to be outdoors, but Lex had insisted they do at least one thing differently.

Whilst the rest of the family had their own hair and makeup artists to help them with their appearances for the day, as well as the meetings with the designers that they were going to wear almost a week prior, Lena and Sam had once again retired to Frogmore.

After finishing her own makeup, Lena had left the bathroom, and saw Sam fully dressed, and standing by the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful, best get yourself ready for Lord Johnathan.”

Sam snorted, “He wishes.”

Picking up two of the outfits that were draped on her bed, Lena sought her friend’s advice. “Dress or suit?” She held up a jade dress on the hanger to her body and replaced it with a burgundy suit jacket. “Suit or dress?”

Sam had chosen a pale peach-coloured, tight-fitting dress that hit just below her knees, and a pair of nude heels to go with it. She stopped applying her mascara and glanced at her friend in the reflection of the mirror. “Dress. Your mother will kill you if you wear the suit.”

The shorter woman narrowed her eyes at the two choices, her mouth twitching as she thought. “Suit it is.”

“Jesus, Lena.”

“I’m desperate to wear it, I’ve had it for years just sitting in the closet,” the youngest Luthor protested.

“There’s so many things in the closet, isn’t there?” The taller woman said, catching the other’s eyes in the mirror.

Lena averted her gaze and swallowed thickly, ignoring Sam’s comments about her wardrobe and the lingering thought that she was talking of something else. “I hate weddings.”

Sam removed the cap from her nude lipstick. “You hate everything that’s happy,” she corrected.

“That’s not true! I like science and books and stars and sometimes cake-”

“Settle down, Marie Antoinette-” Sam smirked, after applying a perfect cost of lipstick.

“Fuck off.”

Sam turned and squinted her eyes at the dress, “It’s a little… dark. Have you got anything a bit brighter?”

“Not really-” Lena began.

Sam held her hand up telling Lena to wait. She walked into her wardrobe, and fiddled with the clothes on the hangers, sifting through blouses and sweaters she was sure her friend had never worn. A bright smile grew on her face when a dress caught her eye and she rushed back out with it. “_This_.”

“Oh, wow.” Lena’s mouth fell slightly open, the hint of a sparkle in her eye.

“Well? Put it on!” Sam ushered Lena into the wardrobe with the dress. “I’ve never seen that before,” she said whilst she waited for Lena to changed.

“It was custom made because I mentioned my love of a different one when I met Dion in Australia a few years ago. Remember when they took me on the tour of the Commonwealth?” To celebrate thirty years of Lionel being on the throne, the family had toured the Commonwealth together, meeting dignitaries and the like at each stop. When her parents were on their separate official duties, Lena often hovered in the background, which is how she met the Australian designer. It was one night at a benefit concert, and fashion show, where some of her designs were first introduced to the world.

“Yeah, but- _Dion Le_e?”

“The one and only.”

Once she had changed, Lena stepped out of the walk-in closet, clutching the excess material to her chest. She received an elaborate eye-roll from her friend, as if seeing her body was something completely new to her. Sam rose and zipped the back of Lena’s dress and rested her hands on the shorter woman’s shoulders as they both stood, looking in the mirror. Sam noticed Lena’s eyes slowly roaming every aspect of her reflection. The dress beautifully showcased every curve of Lena’s. It was a navy-coloured dress, more akin to the colours that belonged to the Royal Navy, so naturally, it seemed to be a perfect fit. The dress was sleeveless, with an off-centre, gentle v-neck, that fell just between the brunette’s knees and ankles, with a gentle slit that rose to the knee on her left.

“I love it!” Sam gestured wildly to Lena as she continued speaking, “Your chest and hips look _amazing_.”

Lena laughed, and playfully slapped her friend on the shoulder, “Sam!”

“You always say how important honesty is,” she adjusted the loose curls of Lena’s dark hair, leaving them to cascade down her shoulders. She went to find a pair of shoes for her friend, and quickly returned with a pair of dark Louboutin stiletto heels. “Definitely these.” Sam placed them on the floor in front of Lena, “and besides it was conservative _and_ regal… I didn’t say boobs.”

Lena snorted, stepping into the heels, “_Very_ regal.”

\---

The two friends had stopped at Buckingham Palace, where the rest of the family was, before the wedding. Before heading off to one of the other cars, Lena and Sam saw Lex before his appearance was due to receive a quick once-over. They knocked on the doorframe of the open door, and peered in. When they were greeted by Lex’s beaming smile, who was adjusting his jacket, they walked in. He gave them each a quick hug.

Lena adjusted his collar for him and lowered her voice, “If you ever repeat this, I’ll have you kneecapped for being an absolute tosser… but you look great.”

Lex grinned, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“What are we waiting for? We’ve got a wedding to go to!” Sam exclaimed.

After they had said their goodbyes, they headed downstairs to the ever-expanding line of waiting cars that were to take them to Westminster Abbey.

With the soft leather of the seats, and the world outside passing in a quick blur, Lena’s throat tightened; it had been months since she had been seen out in public in such an open setting that likely gave her no opportunity to dart off for a moment in private. Fiddling with the small silver clutch she carried, she put a pair of wayfarer Ray-Ban sunglasses on that Sam insisted they bring along; citing the harsh light of what was described as an early summer, rather than explaining the need to hide Lena’s constant deer in headlights look and her roaming eyes when she was near cameras. Sam reached over and patted Lena’s hand, offering her a small word of reassurance, knowing the hatred her friend had for the constant publicity. If Lena was good at anything at all, it was forcing a smile.

A man in a well-tailored suit and a pair of dark sunglasses opened the door of the Rolls Royce. Lena slid out and waited for Sam. Immediately, she heard the clicking of camera shutters and even in the bright sunlight of the day, and the dimming of her sunglasses, the relentless flashes were almost blinding. Standing by the side, she extended a hand for Sam, and the women started the brief walk to Westminster Abbey. It was customary for some members of the royal family to be dropped off a little further away, and some much closer, so that the media were able to take as many photos of guests and the royal family as they wished.

On the other side of the street, an entire platform had been built for the press. Cameras lined up on top of each other, with smaller lenses fitting through the gaps the larger film cameras created. In front of the makeshift platform sat members of the public, some wearing the Union Jack, others the Danish flag, and waving flags with Lex and Rachael’s face printed on. It was often rumoured that people would camp overnight to allow themselves a glimpse of those who were to be married, and with another look at the crowd, that rumour seemed to be true, including both the press and public alike. Short metal barricades separated that section of the pavement from the legitimate road, whilst police officers in luminous jackets stood watch. The two friends walked with their arms linked, the sound of their footfalls and sharp heels on the pavement created a melody amongst the camera clicks. Upon hearing the calls of their names, they smiled and waved in the direction of the cameras a few times.

Flowers had been taken from local merchants and a few were flown in from Denmark. There was a local florist who had placed everything together. Throughout the entire Abbey were bundles of white hortensias, pale pink listhanus’ and dotted amongst each of the separate displays was the odd English rose, with the aim of symbolising both Rachael and Lex.

They walked into the Abbey, with its grand ceilings, and expanse of light that showcased each piece of stained glass that cast a kaleidoscopic rainbow across the black and white chequered tiles. Sam took her place next to Lena on the front dark wooden pew besides Lionel and Lillian. It was customary for Sam to be treat like a second daughter, and no one commented. They talked amongst themselves as they waited for Lex to arrive. When he walked through the doors, and up the red carpeted aisle, he took his place at the front of the cathedral and glanced around at the guests. He caught his family’s eyes and received an encouraging thumbs-up from both Lena and Sam.

The wedding was as perfectly ordinary as any royal wedding could have been. Lex wore his cherry red military dress jacket, adorned with a blue sash, and his medals. Rachael wore an ivory lace and satin gown, designed by Vera Wang, that dipped ever so slightly at the neck, adorned with long, embroidered sleeves, and a veil that was at least six feet in length. The choir sang some sort of beautiful Danish hymn Lena couldn’t recognise as Rachael walked up the aisle with her father. It was practically flawless, as if an elaborate fairy-tale had finally reached its concluding scene. Her bouquet had been made to match the flowers that were dotted around the venue, with the odd green vines and leaves, such as myrtle and ivy intertwined throughout. Once the wedding ceremony was over, and the couple had left the Abbey with cheers and applause from the press and the public outside, they made their way to Buckingham Palace where their official family portraits were taken.

Everything was _so_ official, even knowing her brother, something lingered behind the smile he had plastered on his face. Lena surmised it was nerves, with the event being televised, everything had been practiced and rehearsed and checked not once but five times to be certain everything would run smoothly on the day. So, like the opening night of a musical performance, or a theatre display, nerves could not be helped.

\---

Following portraits, and the famous kiss on the balcony, the sun still shone, warming the gardens during the reception. Stiletto heels quickly became caught in the grass, whilst flat shoes were covered in the the short, freshly cut blades. People talked and caught up with one another. Distant members of the royal family talked of missed milestones, and memories long passed.

Once the sun eventually dipped below the horizon, and the sky turned to a mix of salmon pink and fiery orange, stronger liquors were introduced amongst the constantly refilled champagne flutes. All manner of shoes had long been abandoned, and replaced with sneakers and with some guests, even bare feet were favoured instead of the uncomfortable footwear.

The eight-tiered wedding cake had been introduced at some point as the temperature began to dip into the more comfortable teens, with the baker hailing from the outskirts of Windsor, it had been placed onto a table draped with a white cloth near where the newly wedded couple sat. It stood tall with white frosting and delicately piped buttercream between each tier. On the top of each separate tier sat edible flowers made from carefully constructed sugar, such as white and pink roses, with the odd lilac pansy that effortlessly captured the eye.

Long after dinner had been served, Sam and Lena had chosen a table far enough away from the rest of the action and perfectly close enough so that they could gossip and stay in the favoured proximity the bar. They spent most of the time laughing together over the most basic, mundane things as best friends usually do.

“Excuse me, but I was wondering if you would care for a dance?” A man’s voice asked, interrupting the two women.

Sam nudged Lena in the ribs, and with a frown, she whipped her head around and met the man’s eyes, almost spitting out her drink. “Um- you know, I’ve actually got to-”

“Oh, she’d _love_ to, Lord Johnathan. She’s such a tremendous dancer.” Sam said, interrupting her friend, and ushering her out of the chair.

Lena fought a hysterical laugh, seeing the man had switched his handlebar moustache for some sort of hipster goatee. “Wonderful.” The man held out his hand for Lena with a slight flourish, “Shall we?”

<

Chewing on her lower lip, Lena begrudgingly accepted the man’s hand. As she stood, she quickly turned to cast a dark gaze in Sam’s direction, who responded with a quick thumbs-up and a grin.

Johnathan led her to the makeshift wooden dance floor that had been added to the gardens, whilst a live band played a variety of songs. Lena had one hand resting lightly on the Lord’s shoulder, and the other was sickeningly clutched in his sweaty palm. As they slowly swayed in time to the gentle music, Johnathan’s hand slipped down from her shoulder blade to the woman’s waist and swallowing her anger, it took every ounce of restraint in her to not floor him there and then, or even use her fencing training if given the opportunity. She thought to herself, _where did I put that __ép__ée?_

The man leaned closer so that Lena could hear him above the music and loud chatter around them. “Did I ever tell you that we’re practically neighbours?”

“Wow. Do continue.” Lena replied, trying to sound politely polished, to no avail.

“I know all about Frogmore and-” He began.

Lena winced at the stench of his breath, a mix of alcohol and something even more putrid, forcing herself not to gag. “I’m not at Frogmore. I’m living in Kensington,” she interrupted, her head tilting slightly in question, urging him to go on.

Johnathan’s brow furrowed, “Forgive me, perhaps I am mistaken.”

“Perhaps.” The woman scowled in response.

Once the song had finished, Lena quickly parted from the Lord, offering a tight-lipped smile, and a small nod, and rushed back to Sam’s side. “If you ever make me do that again-”

“Try me,” Sam smirked, finishing the remaining sip of her drink.

Lena let out a hearty laugh, “More champagne?”

“It’s always a yes to champagne.”

When the woman was about to leave the table in search of more drinks, she was greeted by the infamous black, gently slicked back hair of Jack. With his eyes cast downward, carefully clutching three glasses, close to spilling, as he made his way toward their section of the garden.

“You made it!” Sam exclaimed.

Jack placed the glasses onto the cloth table and sat down. He rolled up the sleeves of his dark shirt, smiling, “I just got out of the studio an hour ago-”

“How’s the non-profit going?” Lena grinned.

“Really well, we’re launching properly within the next month or so.”

“That’s great.” Sam nodded.

Jack quickly told them of the music he was currently in the process of producing, as well as further information on the launch of the charity, with a slight hint that the two women should attend. Lena gleefully sat in the middle of her two best friends, listening to them talk incessantly. If there was any minute she wanted to remember, it was this. It was the pure simplicity in the moment, the laughing and the stories that were shared, all over one too many drinks where even she began to feel the slight, light dizziness that accompanied every additional swig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that was okay?? the next couple of chapters are going to be a little short, and somewhat painful... well for lena, but never mind
> 
> come say hi on twitter or tumblr if you like! i'm @outislanders on both


	3. Thirteen Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hi um SUPERGIRL IS TOMORROW HOW ARE Y'ALL FEELING I'M PRETTY EXCITED and scared, mainly scared but never mind

As the night began to quiet, and some guests started to leave, whilst others huddled together talking and laughing, Sam and Lena were still sat at the same table making their way through extra slices of cake that Lex and Rachael had cut, and the leftover bottles of champagne that had fell flat long ago. Jack had achieved his dream of meeting Beyoncé, and after he had brought a few drinks over, he relished in telling her how admirable she was and how she was such a talent. Too immersed in their own bubble, they hadn’t seen any of the other Luthor’s for hours, nor had they seen Rachael and Lex leave to go elsewhere together after the reception.

“Princess Luthor, Miss Arias, if you would both please follow me.”

Sam and Lena exchanged a confused glance, having bypassed all familiarities with Lena’s guard years ago, whether in the presence of the king or not. “Mercy-”

Mercy began to chew on her lower lip, “Please.”

“Why are you being so formal? What is it?” Lena quizzed.

“_Now._” Kelly rounded the corner and quickly appeared beside Mercy. Kelly was Lionel’s guard, and had been for the better part of three years, and much like Mercy, her history lay in the military. She rarely left her father’s side, and during events, Kelly would always be nearby. And since she was alone, something was most definitely wrong.

Lena and Sam stood, with a quick scan of the contented guests, they followed the other two women up the stone stairs into the palace and through a series of corridors away from the garden. If Lena thought she knew the rooms and routes of every royal residence, her knowledge was nothing in comparison to Kelly and Mercy who knew it like the back of their hands, where it was a maze to Lena.

Lena stopped as Mercy’s shaking hands fumbled with the lock of one of the grand doors. “What’s going on?!”

“There’s been an incident,” Kelly said, trying and failing from stopping her lower lip from trembling and ruining her nonchalant demeanour.

Mercy caught Kelly’s eyes and passed on the usual protocol. A defeated look appeared on her face, “Lena, it’s your father.”

“Is he alright?” Lena asked.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Kelly whispered, fiddling with the golden pendant that hung on her neck.

Lena’s eyes dropped to Kelly’s hands, seeing the remnants of dry blood beneath her fingernails. She shook her head, surmising it was likely dirt or her imagination. Her cheeks reddened, feeling completely out of the loop, “Can you please just-”

“Lena,” Sam gently interrupted.

“He’s passed um- he’s died,” Mercy enveloped Lena in a hug after they all waited with bated breath for her to say something, but she kept her arms hanging loosely at her side.

Lena took a slow measured breath into the shoulder of Mercy’s jacket, “Oh…”

Mercy’s hands landed on Lena’s shoulders after the quick hug and she gave her a searching look, “We have to go.”

Kelly opened the door for them all, and Sam took Lena’s arm in her own, more or less dragging her behind the others. Kelly raced ahead, speaking into her earpiece until they were stood in the gravelled courtyard where dark unmarked cars and police officers holding guns waited.

\---

Lena slowly blinked and absorbed her surroundings. She was in a car, that much she knew. Harsh red and blue lights flooded the interior of the vehicle and bathed her skin in the emergency-coloured hue. To her left was Sam, gripping her limp hand tightly, and chewing on her own nails, a habit she had stopped once she finished university, and occasionally did when she was at her most stressed. Lena wriggled her toes, feeling the dirt and miniature pebbles that had somehow ended up on the soles of her feet.

She turned her head towards Sam, “I forgot my shoes-”

“What?” Sam asked as she quickly stopped biting her nails and rested her arm on the side of the car door.

Lena’s gaze fell to her feet, and back to the window, “My shoes.”

The drive to Kensington was a little less than five minutes with the accompanied police escort, but felt like a suspended lifetime as they seemed to pass the illuminated buildings in slow motion. They were passed from room to room, with people trying to piece together the events that had led to the King of England’s death.

She had seen her mother in one of the rooms, standing in the corner with members of her own security detail, looking uncharacteristically frayed. Once she noticed her daughter sitting in the same room, Lillian came to Lena’s side and brushed some of the stray dark hair from her face and ran a gentle thumb over Lena’s cheek, asking if she was alright, and received a small glassy-eyed nod in return. It was rare for her mother to act in any type of maternal way toward her, and even still, Lena couldn’t help but lean slightly into the comforting palm of her hand.

To Lena, the rest was all static noise, and she missed most of the conversations. Someone had spoken of how they would be making announcements of Lionel’s death, choosing to eliminate the words _murder_ or _assassination_ from any of their official correspondents, or press releases. They spoke of distributing the official photographs of Rachael and Lex, and skimming over the fact they’re missing, and that the future of England’s monarchy, one of the oldest in the world is unsure.

“Where’s Lex?” Lena asked, hoping her older brother would be able to provide a word of comfort as he always seemed to manage despite any situation she was going through.

Each head in the room simultaneously turned toward her, and they exchanged quick glances before one of the men whose name she couldn’t recall sat down next to her. “He’s…” the man fiddled with his hands, “he’s gone missing.”

Following a sharp indrawn breath, Lena clenched her jaw, “And Rachael?”

“Missing. This is a concern of international security, not just our own. Arrangements are being made to relocate you here to Kensington or Balmoral, maybe even Highgrove.”

“Frogmore is more than safe,” Lena murmured.

“It’ll only be for a couple of weeks until-” he paused, considering whether the next words were necessary, but instantly chose to continue, “until we are able to investigate this further, after a proper funeral for your father.”

Lena wondered how long this supposed couple of weeks would last. But more than anything, she felt an odd sense of adrenaline coursing through her veins, desperate to run in a random direction and see how far her legs would carry her. She unfurled her clenched fist to reveal deep half-crescent marks on her palms from her nails, “Okay.”

The man nodded, grateful for the lack of usual hostility from the young woman, “Okay.”

Lena fiddled with the collar of her dress and shifted in her seat. She felt her breathing become short, and her eyes darted around the room. Despite Sam’s hand on her arm, and her lips moving as she spoke, all Lena could hear was the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears. When she was frequently met with concerned looks and gestures toward her, Lena stood, and a choked sound escaped from her mouth, and she swiftly turned on her heels and left the room.

Once she had weaved through the endless sea of people still in their evening gowns and lounge suits, she was finally outside at the back of the building that overlooked the perfectly manicured gardens and she stopped as she rested her back against the rough red-bricked wall. Lena squeezed her eyes tightly shut and using the wall for support, she slowly slid down until she reached the cold ground. She ran her hands through her dark hair and rested her face into the palm of her hands.

Her head snapped up when bangs from fireworks echoed the surroundings and illuminated the usual hazy yellow, night sky. She likened the cause of them to mean some type of celebration, possibly a birthday or a belated holiday, and as a child, she loved the rainbows of colour they created amongst the stars, jumping and dancing in different directions. Traditionally, fireworks, and street parties accompanied royal weddings, with the firework displays taking place in Hyde Park. However, Lena forgot all about the celebration that took place only a matter of hours ago, and for a moment, she selfishly wished the rest of the world felt the way she did; the same paralysing loss, and the same pain.

She brought her knees to her chest, and tightly wrapped her arms around her shins. Her eyes flickered from the stone path and up to the sky again, becoming glazed with a glassy layer of tears. Her lower lip trembled, and with a few light blinks, the tears silently rolled down her cheeks unchecked.

The door opened with a small creak of the unoiled hinges, and Lena savoured the tiny bit of warmth that escaped from the building.

“Lena, it’s absolutely freezing out here,” Mercy muttered, rubbing her palms together for extra warmth.

Lena furiously wiped at her eyes, unsure of how long she had been outside. “Yeah, you’re right, I only needed a little bit of fresh air,” she stretched out her legs and dusted the dry dirt from her dress, “come on.”

Mercy’s voice softened, “No, no. We don’t have to go just yet.” She shrugged off her jacket and draped it over Lena’s shoulders, receiving a small thank you in return, and lowered herself onto the ground beside her, “I’m so sorry.”

Lena adjusted the jacket, and pulled it tighter across her chest, “Don’t be.”

Mercy reached into the jacket pocket and pulled out a small metal flask, “I came prepared.”

“That takes me back.” Lena accepted the flask and took a long swig, wincing slightly as the harsh liquor ran down her throat in a fiery trail. “What a fucking life.”

“Lena-”

“When you first said there’d been an incident, I thought he had fainted because of his cancer coming back, maybe- I didn’t think that…” her words trailed off into the night. “How did it happen?” Lena turned her head to face Mercy, the usual carefree, challenging sparkle in her eyes had disappeared.

“He- um- he was shot.” Mercy exhaled, “A few times.”

“H- how many is a few?” Lena asked, attempting to stop her voice from breaking.

“Trust me, you don’t need to know.”

Lena thickly swallowed, and she felt a sudden pain rise in her chest, “You’ve always been honest with me. Please.”

Mercy closed her eyes whilst she thought. Her dark eyes met Lena’s, “Thirteen. I think- that’s what they’ve said, but you know, proper procedures will be carried out, a post-mortem maybe-”

Lena’s face remained indifferent, “Thank you for telling me.” As her hands lightly trembled, she brought the cold metal flask to meet her lips and emptied it in one final swig, ignoring the burning sensation that followed altogether.

Mercy pulled at the cuff of her white blouse, and glanced at her watch, “Let’s get back inside.”

Lena nodded, and gratefully accepted the hand that Mercy had offered her to help her stand. Whilst they slowly walked, and Lena kept a vice-like grip on the other woman’s hand, they avoided the constant influx of people, and Mercy led Lena upstairs to one of the many bedrooms and opened the door.

Sam instantly jumped from the large bed and hugged Lena. “We’ve got some pyjamas here, and a change of clothes.” She forced a smile, “They’re mine so no complaints!” Sam’s hands fell to her hips when she met her friend’s blank gaze. “I don’t know if you want to shower and then get changed, or we can talk for a little while if you’d prefer-”

Lena shook her head and walked into the room. Choosing the side of the bed that was closest to the window, she lay down with her back to the door and curled her body inwards, feeling every sliver of adrenaline instantly leave her. Maybe it was the alcohol catching up with her, or maybe it was Lena’s own body promising to take her away for a small amount of time. As her eyelids began to feel heavier with each blink, she slowly closed them, hoping sleep would provide some type of respite to the overwhelming ache in her body.

Mercy and Sam still stood at the door together, both of their gazes fixed on Lena. “Keep an eye on her, if there’s any new information, I’ll let you both know… but please, if you need anything, just give me a call, I’m right downstairs.”

Sam nodded, “I will. Thank you for everything, really.”

Once Mercy had left, Sam softly closed the door behind her. Lena looked so much smaller to Sam with the distance between them as she leaned on the doorframe, seemingly lost in the mess of plush pillows and gold décor she hated. There wasn’t much she could think of doing or saying, as Lena, even at her most upset, was always so vocal in expressing her feelings, or ranting incessantly about the situation. But this time, she was completely silent. Sam quietly walked to the bed and fumbled with one of the many blankets that were folded on the bench at the foot of the bed. She draped one of the sherpa-lined blankets over Lena, making sure her feet were completely covered in the way she always favoured.

Sam gingerly lay on the other side and propped herself up on one of her elbows as she patiently watched and waited for her friend’s shuddering breaths to even. She reached her hand out and gently squeezed Lena’s shoulder, “I’m here for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that was okay, but yeah it's pretty short and the next chapter will be the funeral of lionel so this one isn't too bad but the next will be longer and a little rougher on lena 
> 
> come say hi on twitter or tumblr if you like! i'm @outislanders on both!


	4. White Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i got really emotional from yesterday's episode and this was gonna be posted a week ago but it got weirdly sad when i wrote it so here, there's not much dialogue as it didn't really need it but hope it's okay lmao

When Lena eventually woke up, in her mind swam a departing dream of a woman on some distant shore; she sighed, desperate to banish the thought and begin a new day. The light of the late morning, low sun, shined into her slowly opening eyes and she brought her hands to guard them, and quickly spun around with a groan, burying her head back into the decorative pillows. Everything about her felt heavy, from her arms to her feet. She let her head loll from one side to the other on the pillow, and momentarily closed her eyes once more as she enjoyed the brief darkness that it brought. There was no option for her to sleep on, and enjoy the mindlessness that accompanied sleep anymore, or conjure her dreams anew. She had to face the day. For now, her rest could wait, it had to.

She threw the blanket back and sat up, her eyes roaming the bedroom in search of Sam.

Lena noticed the bottle of water on the nightstand and the two painkillers, along with a note that informed her everyone was downstairs, written in her friend’s slightly cursive handwriting, with her usual ‘_love you, xo_’ at the bottom of the piece of paper.

\---

After finishing the water and tablets in one easy swig, Lena had quickly showered, scrubbing the dry dirt from her legs and feet, until her skin was almost pink in colour. Purposely avoiding the mirror, she pulled her hair back, and messily tied it, giving the dark locks no opportunity to properly dry. One of Sam’s old hoodies, and a pair of shorts sat at the desk. Making no hesitation, Lena quickly threw the items of clothing on, shoved her feet into a pair of slippers and headed downstairs.

She padded along the corridors, receiving curt nods from strange faces. Eventually the young woman ended up in one of the many dining rooms. Instead of looking perfectly put together for a decadent dinner to host an international ambassador, or royalty from faraway, it resembled more of a chaotic board meeting. The table that could easily seat fifty people comfortably, had its chairs strewn about the room, with random pieces of paper acting as more of a tablecloth than the usually ornate lace.

When the heavy wooden doors closed behind Lena with a bang that echoed throughout the room, the muffled voices turned silent and everyone’s attention shifted toward her. Lena slowly blinked, quickly realising some of the people with dark circles under their eyes and their hair mussed, were still in their clothes from last night’s celebration.

Lillian pushed her chair back with an audible scrape on the wooden floors and stood to meet Lena, “Are you alright?” She lowered her voice, “You look dreadful, dear.”

Lena’s mouth fell agape, “_Dreadful_? Are you kidding me?!”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Forgive me,” she ushered Lena to one of the spare chairs, “we have some things we need to discuss.”

There had been little development in the investigation for her father’s death, and any information was gathered from Kelly and the available surveillance footage. For now, they knew Lionel had informed Kelly that he was going to meet someone for a private conversation in a nearby room, which Kelly didn’t find alarming as it wasn’t particularly unusual, and all the guests had undergone the correct security measures. When he didn’t return for around thirty minutes, along with another member of his security detail for the night, she was the first one to find him. With his chest riddled with bullet holes, and a pool of blood surrounding his body, she instantly applied pressure to each of his wounds in vain, as footage from the surveillance videos showed.

However, prior to the latter events, the footage showed Lionel walking into one of the disused rooms in the corner of the palace. The cameras had then been shut off throughout the entire building and its grounds, and the signal only picked up to show Kelly and a young man running throughout the ground level, and opening the doors to each room, until they eventually found him.

Lena sat in the middle of Lillian and Sam, slumped in her chair as she listened, nodded on cue, and absorbed none of the words that were constantly spewed at her. Despite it, she was glad to have not been shown any videos or images from the night. It was formality more than anything else, as Lena was required to be aware of the situation due to its personal and delicate nature. As soon as they were finished, she went straight back upstairs to find relief in sleep once again.

\---

A few days passed as funeral arrangements were being made, Lex and Rachael were still nowhere to be found. A comprehensive search of the room and its surroundings where Lionel had been shot showed no DNA that was out of place, and no unlocked windows or quick escape routes.

In the meantime, Lena, along with her mother, had been properly relocated to Kensington Palace, and they were provided with separate apartments. Lillian’s took up the whole east section of one of the buildings, compromising of three-storeys, and Lena’s temporary residence was located at the south of the building, on the entire second floor, overlooking the gardens that she often adored as a child.

It was much larger than the sole room she had in Frogmore, but it looked as if it hadn’t been decorated since it was built. Plush white, velvet sofas filled the space, with light wooden floors and oversized patterned rugs. Compared to what she had become used to, the new residence was a small, self-contained box. Although it was perfectly fit for its intended purpose, it was a little _too_ private, and Lena instantly hated it, knowing she’d likely see none of the staff she had become used to, and quietly adored.

Lena spent most of her days alone and silent in the huge bed, wrapped in the thick quilts, with the blinds drawn shut, with a bottle of scotch to keep her company, and aid her sleep. In the beginning, she barely spoke to anyone else, or left her bed to answer the constant knocks. When she did leave to go into the kitchen and replace the alcohol with water, she would start pacing the four-bedroom apartment nonstop while she drank. On some evenings when the liquor wasn’t enough, and didn’t cause her to drift into a mindless sleep, Lena was content to stay awake during the night, watch the sun rise and the early light warm the apartment and then draw her curtains once more, seeking the familiar warmth and comfort of the bed.

She had given both of her friends a key to the apartment, and as was the case in Frogmore, they weren’t subject to additional security checks. Jack and Sam visited Lena constantly, bringing different types of food with them, and making sure that she ate enough, and drank plenty of water. Lena was perfectly content in listening to them talk amongst each other; about their days or developing drama in the celebrity world. In truth, she was grateful that they weren’t treating her like broken glass, just _Lena_, whilst giving her the opportunity to grieve in her own way and at her own pace, even if neither of them agreed it to be the most efficient way. Although that often changed under the cover of darkness. Most nights at least one of them or both, slept in Lena’s bedroom, pulling pillows and quilts from the other rooms and dragging them to Lena’s. The bed itself was big enough for five and the three of them slept easily enough.

One day when her mother briefly visited, to inform Lena of funeral plans, Lena asked if there was a possibility for them to go together and see Lionel one last time. Lillian had responded softly, telling her daughter they were unable to. It wasn’t that Lena necessarily wanted to, but a part of her believed it to be something that needed to be done, and with her mother’s answer, she was grateful to not have to see her father in such a way.

\---

The day of the funeral dawned with thick clouds, and heavy fog, leaving the grass damp with morning dew. It was to be a state funeral, the first of which since the death of Lionel’s father, with a private burial taking place in St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle. There would have been questions, and rumours circulating the second the two women stepped outside of the palace gates. No newly wedded heir to the throne, just Lillian and Lena, alone. They couldn’t postpone the funeral in hopes that their international search for Lex would reach a swift conclusion. Procedures and traditions had to be followed, and whilst arrangements were finalised, Lionel’s coffin lay in St James’ Palace three days prior to the funeral.

Lena had woken early and made her way to the kitchen in her apartment, forcing half an apple down her throat. A black dress was placed on Lena’s desk the night before, with an accompanying dark, woollen pea coat draped over one of the chairs. She pulled on a pair of dark tights and slipped into her dress. When she met up with Lillian, Lena brought a pair of dark sunglasses with her, with a request to wear them, which was quickly denied by the family’s staff.

Lionel’s coffin was placed on an onyx gun carriage, draped in the flag of the Luthor family, rather than his own personal standard. White roses that he had always loved, adorned the top of the coffin, in a large circular wreath and six guard mounted black horses from the Royal Artillery led the procession, pulling the carriage from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey.

It was somewhat bittersweet. Only a matter of days ago the family had been whole and completed the same journey with the aim of a celebration, but now, completing the same route were only two members of the same family, preparing to put one to rest.

Lena and her mother walked in the cortège, side by side behind the coffin. It was only when they passed the front of Buckingham Palace did the two women notice the number of flowers and balloons that had been placed outside the front gates, with photos of the late king, accompanied with handwritten messages.

The youngest member of the Luthor family kept her head towards the ground as she walked, watching each of her own steps. Members of the public lined the route, some teary-eyed, dressed in black, and others with the Union Jack. Despite it all, everyone was completely silent as the coffin passed, and the heavy footfalls of soldiers mingled with the clicking of horseshoes on the road.

Briefly, Lena lifted her head to see how far they were from the Abbey, and it was only then did she see for herself the size of the crowd behind the metal barriers, and the flowers they threw. No empty spaces existed between each of the people watching their every step, and their every move. Her eyes flickered to her mother, whose hands were tightly clenched in a fist, and her expression unreadable. She was desperate to veer to the left and take hold of her mother’s hand. In that moment, Lena would’ve accepted any type of comfort, no matter how minimal from Lillian.

Instead, she chewed on the inside of her cheek, subtly brushing away traitorous tears that rolled down her face, despite the intense forcing and attempted burying of her feelings deep within her. Lena knew the entire funeral from well before they stepped out of the palace until they left for the private ceremony after the Abbey was to be heavily televised around the globe, and she stubbornly refused to allow herself to be seen crying.

When they reached the Abbey, Lena took her place next to her mother, and watched guards in scarlet military suits carry the coffin. They walked together across the black and white chequered tiles, with as many as two thousand people in the Abbey, from national and foreign dignitaries, to personal friends. The coffin was placed on a catafalque at the front of the Abbey, surrounded by four, tall candles.

The women were ushered into one of the temporary front rows, that existed on either side of the Abbey, overlooking the catafalque, and Lena sat fiddling with her hands as she waited. Sam placed her hand on Lena’s shoulder and relief instantly flooded Lena when her friend glanced around for cameras and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“You’ve got this, we’re just behind you, alright?” Sam whispered.

After giving Lena a quick searching look, she took her place in the row behind next to Jack, who leaned forward and lightly squeezed Lena’s shoulder, offering quiet words of comfort.

Lena stared blankly ahead whilst the Dean of Westminster spoke. On her left, was her mother. Lena placed her own trembling hand on top of Lillian’s, and she felt the woman’s hand tense slightly under her touch, but she gave Lena’s hand a light squeeze and withdrew her hand and after that, Lena kept her hands tightly balled in her lap. It was the first time she had any actual contact with her mother since she was a child. And it took a death for it. The ceremony continued, and some of Lionel’s close friends read short poems and gave eulogies, as well as Prime Minister Marsdin. Lena stood when she needed to, and her lips moved silently in time when hymns were sung.

The coffin was carried out by the same eight guardsmen whilst the two Luthor women followed, and it was placed into a black hearse. Lillian and Lena were ushered into a black car with tinted windows and they started the long journey to Windsor whilst the bells of Westminster rang out on the eerily still day of London.

A private funeral took place at Windsor Castle, devoid of the steely, watchful eyes of the public and the press. Both of the Luthor women had written their own personal letters for Lionel, which were placed atop the coffin before the smaller ceremony took place and Jack and Sam held each of Lena’s hands tightly throughout.

\---

Following the funeral, the extended members of the Luthor family, and close friends gathered in the orangery at Kensington for the wake. In the large and airy white room, the sea of people dressed in dark clothing, and talking in hushed tones was out of the ordinary for the space.

Lena hovered around the temporary bar in the corner of the room, _why_ there was a bar, she didn’t know, but she was grateful for it, nonetheless. She was often interrupted by a stream of people offering their condolences and telling her how great a man her father was. A few times, she was asked about Lex, which she responded to with a scoff, and a shake of the head.

“Perhaps a glass of water?” Jack asked, placing a large glass in front of Lena, filled with ice cubes.

Lena met Jack's eyes and took a long swig of her red wine, “No.”

“Come on, there’s only a few more hours left, and then I’ll buy you all the rum and gin you can drink.”

There was no need for Jack to vocally announce the true meaning of his words; Lena instantly knew. Despite the light-hearted nature of his speech, he meant _don’__t break_, _not yet_. “Fine,” Lena begrudgingly accepted the glass. “This is such a waste of our time; I don’t even know why we need to have some macabre celebration after a funeral.”

Jack sighed, “I’ve never liked them too much.”

Lena gave him a tight-lipped smile and spun the cold glass in her hands, “It is what it is, I guess.”

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked, interrupting them both when she appeared at the bar.

Lena’s face fell, and she shook her head. “I’m not-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Sam rubbed small circles into Lena’s back at her unusual candour. Whilst she glanced around the room, she exchanged a worried look with Jack and her gaze fell back to the other young woman.

“Let’s go,” Jack gestured his head toward the door. “Your mother can blame me if she wants,” he gently assured.

Lena stepped down from the tall bar stool, and her friends quickly caught her small stumble. They weaved their way around the room and slowly walked back to Lena’s apartment with Jack supporting Lena’s weight, guiding her down the stone steps. They followed the gravelled path behind Sam who was walking slightly ahead with both her own and her friends’ heels dangling from her hands, ready to create an elaborate excuse if any one of the numerous guards passed them.

Once inside the confines of her own private residence, Lena’s walls finally crumbled. She felt the hated tears rising and fought them back. They struggled against her determination, choking her until the pain in her throat almost stopped her breath. Instantly, Jack had enveloped her in a hug, and Lena sobbed into the shoulder of his dark suit jacket, inhaling the familiar scent of his _Frederic Malle_ cologne. She had promised herself that once everything that demanded her attention, and once every procedure was followed, only then would she allow herself to feel, _later_, she always promised herself, _later_,_ it can wait_. For Lena, later was much sooner than she could have ever expected.

Still in their outfits from the funeral, they eventually succumbed to sleep on one of the sofas like dominoes; Lena in the middle leaning on Jack, and Sam with her head resting on Lena’s shoulder.

Lena’s heavy eyes eased open to almost complete darkness, apart from the dim light from a lamp in the corner. She stretched her aching neck from the awkward sleeping position, and moved Jack’s blazer from her legs, and onto the glass coffee table. Despite every recently suppressed emotion that bubbled to the surface in the last few hours, instead of feeling lighter, she felt a much heavier weight on her shoulders.

Her brother should have been there.

Her brother would become king.

But, her brother was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also... a certain blonde might appear in the next chapter
> 
> come say hi on twitter or tumblr if you like! i'm @outislanders on both!


	5. Coffee and Lemon Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uni is kicking my ass and i've officially given up so hello it's been a while :///

England had been observing fifteen days of mourning for the loss of their king, and the familiar white, red and blue flags flew at half-mast throughout the country. Royal engagements had been postponed, and what would have been the tour throughout various countries of the globe with a newlywedded couple, were promptly cancelled. The palace had lost its usual daily stream of people and senior officials, and had been painfully silent, with the heavy, solemn feeling spreading throughout the halls.

News reports across the world covered the funeral, only briefly mentioning that just two members of the Luthor family attended, instead, choosing to focus on Lionel’s legacy. Their press team was quick to cover any stories regarding Lionel’s death, rather than causing panic throughout the country as to what could only be described as a murder or an assassination, they allowed small breadcrumbs to be passed throughout the media. Using an unforeseen stroke whilst he slept as the reason for his passing, instead of numerous shots to his torso.

Only people who were absolutely required to know were aware of the full extent of the horrors, including senior members of the government and those working with the remaining Luthor’s to reach a conclusion. MI5 and MI6, though usually dealing with the country’s internal and foreign affairs respectively, had been working together to locate both Lex and Rachael whilst the royal family had also been put into a firm lockdown. Guards were posted at each corner of Kensington Palace, whilst every visitor was recorded, and scanned for any weapons, when they entered or left.

Lena hadn’t had much contact with the outside world since the night of her father’s funeral. She hadn’t seen Lillian, which wasn’t overly uncommon for the two of them, and Lena had assumed that her mother was struggling just as much as she was. It was easier for her to accept the circulating story that he had passed away peacefully, rather than replaying the hazy events of the wedding and its reception in her mind, and trying in vain to reach some sort of conclusion and locate a person that she could easily blame for his death. She had forced herself to believe that any more grieving could wait, but if given the opportunity to be away from it all, she would’ve happily run with it.

\---

Sam and Jack, despite their grievances, had given Lena the space she needed. Sam had stopped by around a week after to see Lena. After undergoing the security measures that the building had put in place, she walked through the courtyard and turned left to the section of the building that housed Lena’s apartment.

She traversed the long hallways, and up a flight of stairs, offering small nods to the staff she passed. Sam didn’t have an overall reason to see her friend at such a late hour, but knowing Lena, she would likely be halfway through a large measure of whiskey or gin before she decided to sleep.

Sam unlocked the door to Lena’s apartment with a soft click, “Lena?”

“In here,” Lena called back.

Sam closed the door behind her and removed her shoes before making her way to Lena’s bedroom. Standing by the mirror, Lena was fully dressed, with a pair of sunglasses on her head, whilst she applied a thick layer of concealer under her eyes.

“Where are you going?” Sam quizzed.

“Out,” Lena responded nonchalantly.

“With Mercy?” Sam frowned, “I thought she had the day off-”

“No. We’re in the centre of London, I may as well go and have some fun.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “Lena, you can’t just disappear.”

Lena straightened her posture, and fastened the lid of her concealer, “Come with me, I’ll call Jack and we can make a night of it. It’ll be just like old times.”

“I can’t. I mean, I would but-”

“There’s a young guard who has been there for days, I’m pretty sure he’s perfected the art of falling asleep whilst standing.” Lena caught the confused worry in Sam’s eyes and continued, “The window opens perfectly onto the trellis; climb straight down, through the gardens, and we’re done. Same way back, and no one ever has to know.”

Sam shook her head in faint disbelief, “Boarding school really did a number on you.”

The corner of Lena’s mouth rose in a smirk, “It did, didn’t it? I bet Lillian would be glad to know the money she spent on that glorified prison of an educational system was worthwhile.”

“Be back by midnight, please.”

Lena scoffed, “I’m not Cinderella-”

“Just don’t stay out… or call me to let me know where you are.”

Lena shrugged off Sam’s concerns, “I don’t have a phone.”

“Use one of those red boxes if you have to.”

Lena blinked owlishly, “Right-”

“You don’t have any money, do you?” Sam rifled through her bag that she had left on the coffee table and handed Lena the remnants of the coins in her purse, and the last few notes that she had.

“Thank you,” Lena sheepishly smiled and rubbed the back of her neck, “I need to get out of here for a little while, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.”

\---

Lena pulled at the zipper of her dark heeled boots and deftly fastened the buttons on her black peacoat. She stood and opened the window with a devastatingly loud creak and feeling the rush of cold air that fought its way in, she shivered slightly. Her eyes roamed the length of the garden, and once she was somewhat satisfied with her internal plan, she gingerly placed her right foot onto the top of the wooden trellis, testing its strength.

“See you soon, boss,” Lena smirked.

Sam looked past her friend, feeling wary at Lena’s unfamiliar behaviour. She had always been the type of person to act recklessly, of course, but Sam could usually predict her intentions, but this time, she couldn’t quite place them. With a shake of her head, she forced a smile onto her face, “If you fall, I swear I’m leaving you there all night.”

Lena scoffed and quickly made her way down the trellis. She jumped onto the paved walkway below and glanced up at Sam to give her a mock salute and darted into the cover of the gigantic trees. She breathed a sigh of relief once she reached the tall fence that cordoned the gardens off. It looked a lot more daunting than expected, but with the aid of a nearby tree trunk, and internal gratitude from years of pilates, she quickly hoisted herself over the top and onto the other side.

Lena stood upright and stretched out her neck and shoulders. _I’m getting too old for this_, she thought to herself, examining the height of the wrought iron fence. The young woman wasn’t too sure of how to get back into the grounds of the palace; getting out was her plan but _returning_ was never fully accounted for. Lena hadn’t really expected to even manage to get as far as she did, but that was another situation that could wait. She waved off her thoughts to herself, and quickly crossed the road, pulling the dark, plastic frames of the sunglasses over her eyes.

The night was much colder than she could have ever anticipated. She hunched her shoulders in an attempt to brace herself against the icy winds and shoved her hands into her pockets, searching for extra warmth whilst her breaths became shallow from the frigid temperatures.

There wasn’t anywhere Lena was planning on going, she didn’t have a certain favourite place to visit, or anyone she knew well enough that she could shamelessly call on. In truth, she didn’t know the surrounding borough of Kensington as well as she hoped, and there was no real purpose for her to be out at such a late hour, other than being able to leave the confines of the palace. So, sticking to a route that wouldn’t cause any issues, the young woman slowly walked down Palace Gate.

With only the sound of her own footfalls and the occasional roar of a car, she slowly wandered through each of the streets, using the main road as a guide to return to whenever a cut opened in the narrow branches of streets. Leaving the vicinity of the palace would’ve been a mistake, and even the young woman was aware of that. Instead, she made use of whatever time she could allow herself, seeing how each of the separate streets varied, from the types of cars that were parked outside to the height of the buildings.

Lena turned the corner onto a street of the seemingly ever-expanding tall, white homes, and red-bricked stores. Under the orange hue of the streetlights above, she pulled at the cuff of her coat to check her watch, and saw it was just after eleven. How long she had been walking, she didn’t know, but her feet ached due to the heels she had regretfully chosen to wear. Most of the windows had been covered by the metal shutters, or the lights had been switched off long ago when the last of the staff had left.

She saw the dim yellow light of one of the stores spilling onto the pavement. After a quick glance at the front door, she noticed the open sign was still turned around. With a wish to leave the cold, she tried the handle and the door opened with a gentle creak and small chime of a metal bell. Lena was greeted by a departing scent of cinnamon and ginger, and it was only then did she remember she hadn’t even bothered with dinner. She found it slightly humorous to have turned up in what seemed like a bakery of all places.

Any thoughts that had occupied her mind were instantly silenced when she heard a muffled voice toward the back of the store, that grew louder with each passing millisecond.

“Honestly Eve, I keep telling you that you can trust me with a set-” a blonde woman left the back room, that Lena presumed to be a kitchen, she fiddled with the ties of her apron that hung at her waist and paused, “of... keys.” She stood completely still in a pale blue sweater, with a blatant look of confusion written on her face.

_American_, Lena instantly noted. She removed her sunglasses, and placed them onto the top of her head, “Um. Hello.”

“Hi... Can I help you?” The woman’s hands fell to her side as her eyes narrowed toward the stranger.

“I- you were the only place open and-” Lena began, her voice left her mouth hoarse and she, herself was shocked at how she sounded from the constant inhaling of the cold air. She saw the woman’s confusion change to shock, and without a second thought, braced herself to bolt out of the door.

Regaining her composure, the blonde woman pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, “We’re closed, actually.”

Lena’s shoulders dropped when the other woman had opened her mouth and she felt herself relax a little at the tone of her voice, more honey-sweet misunderstanding than blunt knowing. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll come back in the morning,” Lena sharply nodded, and turned on her heels toward the door.

When she saw Lena’s face fall, the blonde woman couldn’t help but feel like she wanted to help, she looked like she had a bad day and something sugary would help, not to mention the effort it must have taken to traverse a quiet London on a cold night in search of a bakery. Her face softened, “You don’t have to. Besides, it looks like I left the open sign on the door, so it’s on me. What can I get you?”

Lena’s blinking quickened, and she turned around whilst a smile slowly grew on her face, “Anything you have is brilliant. Stale, or not, whatever, I honestly don’t mind.”

“Coffee and lemon cake?”

Lena stopped the clenching of her jaw, “Sounds heavenly.”

The taller woman nodded and removed one of the chairs that had been placed upside down whilst she cleaned the floors earlier in the night. Effortlessly, she flipped it and placed the chair onto the floor in one fell swoop. She caught Lena’s gaze who was still stood by the door and motioned to the rest of the room, “You can obviously sit elsewhere if you prefer-”

Lena lightly shook her head, “No, that’s brilliant.”

Whilst Lena settled into the wooden chair, the blonde woman disappeared into the other room. Lena found a slight comfort in the only lights being from the kitchen, grateful that woman wasn’t able to see her clearly enough.

After a few minutes, the woman returned with a metal tray, and placed the cake and steaming mug of coffee in front of Lena. Lena glanced up to see eyes almost indigo in the light, and a smudged line of flour under the woman’s jaw was made prominent by her lightly tanned skin. Lena’s eyes fell to the metal badge pinned on the pocket of her shirt, ‘_Kara_’.

“Thank you,” Lena smiled, and poured a small amount of milk into her drink. She wrapped her slender hands around the ceramic coffee mug.

The woman she now knew to be Kara, began wiping the counters with a towel. Lena was perfectly content to sit and watch her flutter around the space. Doing what, she didn’t know, but Lena surmised it was a way to keep an eye on her for whatever reason. Perhaps she thought her odd, or something else entirely, but Lena didn’t mind too much. In a way, she couldn’t blame her if that’s exactly what she thought, knowing the place likely closed to the rest of London hours ago.

Lena’s eyes flickered up, and she caught the small glint of her gold circular studded earrings as Kara’s head was down, focused on the task at hand. “Your name means friend in Irish. Did you know that?” She asked.

Kara glanced up at the interruption, and her eyebrows knitted together, “Friend?”

“Yeah… it’s spelled with a C, but it’s pretty much the same.”

Lena held the blonde’s questioning gaze for a few seconds, until she muttered something to herself, and her head motioned back to the counter. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, as the woman busied herself with more menial tasks, until she eventually leaned against the back counter with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Lena could feel the eyes boring into the side of her head and slightly turned her head to catch the woman frowning as she thought.

Kara rapidly blinked and fiddled with the leg of her glasses, searching her mind for anything to say. Instead, she began stammering as she spoke, “Irish you said um- a- are you from Ireland?”

“No, I’m not really sure why I know that but-” Lena shrugged, if the other woman was aware of who she was, she hadn’t mentioned it, but Lena could tell she was attempting in vain to place her face. There was nothing she could do about that, so she sighed and took another forkful of the cake. “This is lovely, by the way.”

Kara grinned, “Thank you! Everything’s freshly made here.”

Lena nodded and slowly finished the coffee she had been given. She placed the empty plate and mug back onto the tray and leaving a fifty-pound note on the table, she brought everything back to Kara.

“Oh- uh- I would’ve gotten that but thank you.”

Lena extended her hand, “No, thank _you_. It was lovely to meet you, Kara.”

Somewhat surprised at the woman’s formality, Kara hesitantly accepted her hand, which was slightly cold to the touch despite the recent warm drink she had consumed, “And you.”

Once outside of the small store, Lena craved the warmth of the somewhat familiar walls of her apartments and surprisingly, her own bed. Instead of weaving through the streets, she stuck to the main road, passing lines of parked cars, and was swiftly back to the fence she had hopped over.

With a huff, Lena removed her boots, and threw them over the fence, falling onto the grass with a loud thud, as she surmised that the bare soles of her feet might have better luck with climbing than the inadequate rubber. She pulled her socks back on once she was over the fence.

“Hey!”

Lena squeezed her eyes shut, cursing herself for not checking if anyone else was around before jumping down. She brought her hands from her side, to her head, and slowly turned around as she eased her eyes open and saw a gun pointed towards her. Lena’s mind drifted to her father when her hands began to tremble, “It’s- it’s only me, it’s Lena.”

The young man lowered his gun, and briefly bowed his head, “Your Royal Highness, may I ask why you’re out so late?”

Lena breathed a sigh of relief, gathered her boots from the floor and kept them clutched to her chest, “I fancied a walk, is all. Just through the gardens, it’s a beautiful night.”

“The palace is on lockdown and your family has a curfew at nine-”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Very well,” the man sharply nodded and returned to his post whilst Lena darted past him to the other side of the building.

Leaning on the brick wall, Lena spent a few seconds trying to catch her breath and rid the thoughts of her Lionel’s last moments that entered her mind. Soon after, she shoved her boots back on and climbed the trellis. Rather than bothering to change into a set of clean pyjamas, or even remove her coat, Lena kicked off her boots, and with slightly damp socks, she padded along to her bedroom and unceremoniously flopped on the bed. She brought her knees to her chest and buried her head into the thick quilt.

In her mind, she recounted each step she took, each path she had walked and each word she had muttered to the woman in the bakery, hoping that she wouldn’t have caused an even bigger mess in her mother’s eyes. Lena could’ve dragged both the guard and the woman into whatever dreadful family business that was ongoing, and despite not knowing either of them, it was certainly something she would much rather avoid.

And if there was ever a morning she was dreading, it was tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short like my attention span 
> 
> i hope it was okay lmao if you wanna come say hi on twitter or tumblr i'm @outislanders on both!


	6. Biscuits or Cookies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy december everyone!!! also please get prepared for 5x08 i don't think any of us will ever be ready
> 
> this is kinda dialogue heavy and a lil short ://

Lena had been using the same route in and out of the palace for about a week, wandering the different streets at around a similar time each night. She hadn’t bothered to go back to the bakery, knowing that the employee, owner, or whoever that women she met was, probably wouldn’t have the place open at that time of night, _every_ night.

On the Thursday, when it had been a whole week since she had first tried her chances at leaving, after having dinner with Sam earlier in the evening, she had decided to leave despite the heavy rain outside. Making sure to wear her boots again, she left an adequate pair of trainers tucked away inside a plastic bag that she could wear to aid her in climbing back over the fence on her return, rather than having to end up with another pair of sodden socks.

To stop herself from having to answer questions, or have another gun pointed at her, Lena had managed to study the habits of each of the guards; including their rotations, and who would be on duty at what time, and on which particular day, perfectly. It didn’t take as long as she had expected it to, since the rotation only involved around three different people, all of which kept to the confines of the temporary shelters during the first sign of drizzle.

Once outside, Lena winced at the feeling of the icy rain on her exposed skin. She thought to follow the same route she had the first time she left, hoping to veer off to the right once Palace Gate had come to an end, or she reached a set of traffic lights at a junction.

Whilst on the left side of the road, Lena wandered past the bakery again. It was only then that she realised the name of it, ‘_Sunflour Bakery_’, written in a golden cursive font, with a midnight blue background, placed perfectly on the top of the building with the ‘_o_’ resembling a small cartoon sun. It seemed a little on the nose to Lena, but she couldn’t help but smile at the small pun.

She couldn’t help but wonder how the store seemed to appear during the day. Lena imagined a continuous flow of people, coming and going, with the window full of everything that had been freshly baked that morning, people stopping for coffee, sitting outside during the summer, everyone having a sort of familiarity with the staff, especially those who ordered the same thing everyday. And how beautifully ordinary it seemed.

A part of her craved that borderline anonymity, known to a few, and cared about by some. Which is why she favoured her late-night walks alone, even in a rainstorm, Lena would rather be a stranger outside than stuck inside dreadful, ornate, prison-like walls.

Instead, she saw the building shrouded in darkness, through a thick sheet of rain, nestled perfectly amongst the boutique stores, but on a quiet road, and on a quiet night, it was like the place never existed at all.

She slowed her steps and through the glass, saw the same light coming from the kitchen. Lena swiftly crossed the street, and tried the handle, greeted by the same chime of the bell. She softly closed the door behind her and hoped to see the same woman again.

In an instant, Kara’s head peeked out from the kitchen, to see who was at the door. Her eyes narrowed, once she noticed the somewhat shadowy figure, “Are you finally here to rob me?”

Lena released an exasperated breath at the question, “Excuse me?”

“I don’t know… you’re here again at this time. Seems kind of odd.”

Lena smoothed the front of her damp coat, and wiped the remnants of rain from her face with frozen fingers, “You’re the one who didn’t lock the door, _again_.”

Kara slowly blinked, “Oh-”

Lena’s eyebrow rose in question, “Besides, if I was going to rob you, don’t you think I would’ve done that on my first visit, rather than coming back?”

Kara stepped out and stood to the side of the doorframe as her shoulders rose and fell, “You could’ve been scoping the place out for all I know, it’s not like we keep money here overnight.”

“Why would I-” Lena shook her head, “don’t worry, I’m not here to rob you and I certainly wouldn’t go to the effort of braving a rainstorm for it.”

The blonde leaned against the doorframe, wearing a white buttoned-up shirt, “Can I help you, then?”

“You don’t happen to have any more lemon cake, do you?”

Kara’s eyes flickered to the inside of the kitchen, and she gestured with her head towards it, “I’m actually in the middle of making cookies.”

_Biscuits_, Lena silently corrected in her mind. To Lena, baking biscuits at any late hour, especially alone, was stranger than someone turning up at a bakery during the night, but clearly the other woman thought the opposite. “At this time?”

“Just testing our new oven,” Kara disappeared back into the kitchen. After a few seconds, her head peeked back around the doorframe, “I guess you’ll be wanting to try them?”

“Why let them go to waste?”

“I suppose you’re right, take a seat.”

Kara returned to the confines of the kitchen. Once the oven beeped, alerting her that it had reached its desired temperature of one hundred and eighty degrees celsius, still a conversion that she had to momentarily hesitate to remember from fahrenheit, she placed the tray onto the middle rack of the oven, and set the timer.

She started to clean the rest of the metal benches, piling the leftover flour onto one of the sides so that it would be easier for her to properly clean whilst she waited. After the benches were cleaned to her satisfaction, Kara rinsed the rest of the bowls and wooden spoons she had used, before placing them into the dishwasher.

Once Kara had finished her meticulous cleaning, she returned to the main part of the bakery, expecting to see the other woman tapping away on her phone as most people did. Instead, she just sat, perfectly upright, fiddling with her hands. “Do you want me to put your coat on the radiator for you?”

Lena’s eyes snapped up, “Sorry?”

“You said it was raining, so your coat must be wet… unless you had an umbrella-”

“Right- um- that would be wonderful, thank you.” Lena shrugged off her sodden wool coat and handed it to Kara.

Kara lay the coat across the radiator on the other side of the room, and turned her head toward the woman, “Are you warm enough? I can turn the heating up-”

“I’m perfectly pleasant, thank you. Are you going to try these too?”

Kara momentarily hesitated before she answered, knowing she always talked in her sleep if she ate anything sugary before bed, “I’d rather not.”

“So, if I get food poisoning, I can blame you?”

“I can guarantee you won’t.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Kara softly smiled and she noticed the way the young woman’s hair looked almost raven from being slightly damp from the rain. She quickly went back into the kitchen, and rummaged through the drawers for one of the many sealed tea towels and ripped open the packet. She returned to the other woman and handed her it, “For your hair, you don’t want to catch a cold.”

Lena responded with an owlish blink, as her lower lip began to tremble. The simple kindness of a stranger who had expected her to rob her only a matter of minutes ago was almost enough to make her eyes prick with tears, _almost_. “Thank you _so_ much,” she ran the towel over the dark locks of her hair, hearing the beeping of a timer from the kitchen, which Kara immediately ran to attend to.

It wasn’t that Lena wasn’t accustomed to people helping her out, or doing the very basic for her, it was always expected from the staff in the various royal homes, and she was used to it from her friends. But, to have someone she didn’t know, and probably never would, do that, for no gain of their own, was painfully comforting.

Almost immediately as Lena heard a creak in the silence from the oven door being opened, she could smell the sweet scent of the biscuits, wafting from the kitchen, sweet and sugary with an overwhelming amount of vanilla.

\---

“There. Six, hopefully edible – cookies,” Kara set the plate next to Lena, with the chocolate pieces warm and melting onto the white ceramic and nodded at her triumphantly before turning on her heels to return to the kitchen.

Lena frowned, “These look great, but I think you mean biscuits.”

Kara turned back around at the sound of the woman’s voice, “Biscuits are more akin to bread, and they’re savoury with a lot more flour, these are sweet and they’re cookies. Chocolate chip, to be exact.”

“They’re still biscuits.”

Kara pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, “Trust me, they’re really not.”

Lena tilted her head to the side, “I could do this all day.”

“Clearly.” Kara folded her arms and the material of her shirt strained slightly at the shoulders. Only then, did she notice how the woman’s eyes seemed to resemble a deep emerald in the low lights, somehow brighter against her pale skin. “I’ve had the same conversation every day since this place opened,” she grinned, “so I could too.”

\---

Jack knocked on the door of Lena’s apartment, and Sam rose from the sofa to answer it.

“Hi! Those stairs are such a hassle- where’s Lena at?” Jack asked, carrying a box of Guinness.

“She’s out.”

He placed the box onto one of the kitchen counters with a heavy thud, and made his way to the rain splattered window, trying to locate Lena, “What? Like in the gardens?”

Sam thickly swallowed, “No, I mean _out_.”

Jack turned around, and his brow furrowed, “Why would she leave? Lena knows that the place is on lockdown.”

“I’m just glad she actually makes it back in one piece, but something’s not right-”

“You should’ve gone with her or called me, and I would’ve gone-”

“It gives her time to clear her head and she’s always back before twelve, so,” Sam shrugged, “there’s nothing I can do.”

“Where does she go?”

“She just walks.” Sam sifted through the cupboards and lined up two glasses on the counter.

Jack scoffed, “Lena’s never liked walking or doing anything without a purpose-”

Sam leaned against the granite top, “She walked every morning at Frogmore- I’ll have to get her a phone or something.”

Jack looked unconvinced, “Her mother will end you.”

“Let her,” Sam replied with a wave of her hand.

Jack chewed on his lower lip, knowing there was nothing either of them could do, Lena was one of the most stubborn people they knew. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Jack opened the box, and handed Sam one of the cans, “The security is ridiculous at the minute, one of the guard’s downstairs was trying to check the cans for something, as if I’d ever waste a perfectly good drink?”

Realising what he was doing, Sam followed suit, “The cute brunette one?”

Jack’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “That’s the one.”

\---

After the biscuits had been eaten, and split between them, at Lena’s insistence, and the water that Lena had preferred over a hot drink was finished, she glanced at her watch, knowing she should probably leave before Sam sent a whole search team out for her.

Lena stood and tucked her chair under the wooden table and made her way to the other side of the room to swap her coat on the radiator for the tea towel that she was given. She buttoned up her jacket, and folded her arms across her body, momentarily savouring the heat.

Kara hovered by the table, untying her cocoa powder covered apron. Her eyes roamed the street outside, seeing heavy rain dancing on the road and pavement. “It’s still chucking it down out there-”

Lena’s mouth rose into a smile at the familiar saying in a less than familiar accent, and how strange but nice it sounded all the same. “I’m fine with it.”

“Wait here, let me get you an umbrella, or-”

Lena shook her head, “I appreciate that, truly, but my car is just parked outside.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

Lena thanked Kara again, and opened the door to leave, whilst the cold air forced its way in and stole some of the heat that belonged to the store.

Through a haze of rain, Lena began her walk back home, and she heard the splattering of quick, heavy footsteps growing louder behind her. Although England was known for it’s less than favourable weather in the spring, she knew most people wouldn’t bother trying to leave their homes, no matter how accustomed they were to it. Internally berating herself when she realised she hadn’t been wearing the pair of sunglasses she had brought with her; she patted the pockets of her coat in search of them.

Instead, she felt the can of pepper spray that Sam had insisted she take with her, to save them all the trouble of Lillian’s wrath if Lena were to ever get caught on her unusual, yet daily, late-night wanders.

“Hey-” a voice began, raised to be heard over the storm.

Lena’s hand tightened around the small can in her right pocket, and as the voice inched closer, and the footsteps grew louder, she swiftly spun around, and held the can up.

“Wait! It’s Kara!” The blonde woman exclaimed, holding her hands up.

Lena instantly dropped the can onto the pavement, “Jesus fucking Christ-”

“Okay! I agree! They’re biscuits not cookies!”

Lena inhaled a sharp breath, “Shit- what the _fuck_ are you doing?!”

Kara’s eyes widened, and wildly she gestured towards the other woman, “You’re the one with the can of pepper spray!”

“You could’ve been anybody-” Lena’s hand fell on her chest, feeling the pounding of her own heartbeat, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief, “honestly-”

“Sorry- I just wanted to bring you an umbrella since it’s raining,” Kara’s head motioned to the umbrella that was looped around her wrist, “and well- you wouldn’t have turned up drenched if your car was outside.”

“You scared the shit out of me and now we’re both soaked.” Lena lightly laughed, seeing the microscopic droplets of rain on Kara’s glasses.

“Better two than one,” Kara opened the dark umbrella, and held it over Lena, whilst heavy droplets of rain instantly hit, creating small, thundering, rhythmic beats on the fabric, “here.”

Lena gratefully accepted the umbrella, and her hands tightly gripped the wooden handle, “Won’t you want it back?”

Kara crouched to pick up the can of pepper spray and warily handed it back to Lena, “Keep it.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Kara responded with a lopsided smile and gave Lena a curt nod, before running back to the shelter of the bakery.

\---

Once she was back in her apartment, after a few missteps on the slippery trellis, Lena shook the already closed umbrella free of excess water, and tightly closed the window behind her.

“Lena?” Sam wearily asked.

Lena jumped at the sound of the voice, “What’s with everyone keep magically appearing out of nowhere?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you,” Jack gently reassured.

Rather than bothering to unlace them, Lena kicked off her clunky boots, and gently nudged them closer to the window with her foot, “I’m going to shower; I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

When Lena had padded along to her bedroom, leaving Jack and Sam still sat in the living room, Sam slowly exhaled, “See what I mean? Something’s off.”

“Yeah, but she just lost her father, and her brother in a way, so it’s understandable that she’ll be different.”

“It’s not that-” Sam lightly shook her head in an attempt to dismiss her worried thoughts. “No, you’re probably right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope that was alright even though lena's very lonely lmao
> 
> come say hi on twitter or tumblr if you like! i'm @outislanders on both!!


	7. The Danvers'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas if you celebrate it and if not, hope you've had an awesome day!!

Kara had been wanting to visit her mother in Edenbridge over the bank holiday long weekend, having not seen her for weeks, relying on the lacklustre phone calls to catch up. Desperate to leave the hustle and bustle of London behind, she dragged her sister, Alex, along with her. It had been months since they had all been in one place, with Alex usually too busy to leave work, and Kara hanging around at the bakery a lot more than usual whilst trying different recipes in an attempt to further profits, with her friend, Eve.

They started the long drive out of the city, with Alex electing to drive, knowing Kara often got too distracted with singing along to the radio or the dogs and birds she could see out of the window. Tall, glass skyscrapers slowly gave way to modest two-storey homes until they finally reached the familiar green hills of what had been their home for the last four years.

Leaving the familiarity of the United States and moving to England was a feat in itself. But, when Alex was offered a job working when her CIA director moved to work with the British government, under the MI5 branch, she couldn’t help but accept it. Kara had been left with a number of possibilities once she started her final year of college; she could have continued onto higher education, started looking for full-time work, or choose to travel the world as most people did. Rather than parting from her sister, she transferred to finish the semester at King’s College, and graduated with her degree in marketing instead. Their mother, Eliza, had joined them, fast-tracking their applications for citizenship through Alex’s job. And whilst Eliza was able to work as a doctor for the NHS, Kara, again, drifted until her friend she met in college, Eve, suggest they opened a bakery together.

Alex pressed all four of the buttons on the drivers’ side of the car to wind the windows down, and allow the cool, fresh air into the car. It was one of the rarer days where a cloudless, crystalline sky gave way to the bright rays of the sun. Hair blowing in the wind, Kara fumbled with the radio, and turned the volume up. She leaned her arm onto the side of the car, watching the rest of the world pass by in a blur.

The car veered to the left, up a small bank, then up a long, gravelled driveway until they eventually reached the house. It was surrounded by greenery all around, and the only neighbours existed well beyond the thick, dense trees. Eliza had fallen in love with the home online, hoping to find a slice of stereotypical _English charm_, and she found it. The home was all red bricked on the outside, with ivy that turned red in the autumn growing up and across the house. Inside, it had five bedrooms, wooden floors, and dark wooden beams on the ceilings which acted as a perfect contrast to the white walls and modern furnishings.

Kara stepped out of the car, feeling the uneven gravel beneath her converse shoes. She unlatched the trunk of the car and hoisted both her own and Alex’s bags over her shoulders. After greeting their mother and savouring one of her long-forgotten comforting hugs, Kara took their bags upstairs.

Even though it was only for a small period of time, being able to have separate rooms after they had spent their childhood sharing when their family adopted Kara, after the death of her parents, was somewhat strange. Rather than being able to throw a plush toy or a pen at the other to wake them up, they had to cross the hall to see if the other was still awake, for their usual late-night conversations.

Kara left the dufe bags at the foot of each of their beds in their respective rooms and made her way back downstairs.

Eliza handed Kara a mug of orange tea, “I feel like I haven’t spoken to you girls in ages, come on.” She ushered each of them to the sitting room with its white sofas, “How are you both?”

“Good. Busy.” Kara smiled realising they were both waiting for her to continue, “Things are pretty fine, I guess? The bakery is doing alright, profits here and there, less than expected, but-” she shrugged, “you know, nothing that can’t be improved.”

Alex rolled her eyes, “You are _so_ boring, we want the gossip!”

“I don’t have any! Unless you want me to tell you about how we bought a new oven, there’s nothing new. What about you? Where’s _your_ gossip, Alex?”

Alex scoffed, “My work is classified, nice try though.”

“How’s things with you, Eliza?” Kara asked.

“Also classified, kind of,” Eliza laughed. “The hospital has been busy, and I’m going to a conference in a few weeks, but other than that, everything is alright.”

Alex’s attention shifted to her younger sister, “Haven’t you got news, Kara? Maybe something regarding your love life that you refuse to tell us for some reason?”

Kara leaned further into the sofa, “Nope.”

“Nothing to do with the chain on your neck?”

Kara’s face reddened, and she fidgeted with the collar of her t-shirt, making sure the necklace was still underneath, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Alex took a sip of her scalding tea, “It’s not like we didn’t notice it last year-”

“_Alex_,“ Eliza warned.

They finished their tea, with Kara electing to listen to Eliza and Alex ‘s ramblings rather than actively speak.

Alex shrugged, “Well- I’m gonna unpack my bags.”

Kara sat upright once her sister had left and set her mug aside onto a coaster. “I think I will as well. I’ll help with dinner too, okay?” She stood and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dark jeans.

“Kara, sweetie,” Eliza gently began, causing her youngest daughter to still, and turn around, “whatever’s keeping you from saying those words, or telling people, it’s okay.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asked, her brow furrowing at the vague statement.

Eliza’s face softened, “It’s more than okay for you to say no, you’re perfectly allowed to say that if that’s what you want… just like it’s okay for you to say yes.”

“I- I’d rather not talk about it-”

“That’s alright too, we’re right here for you when you are.”

Kara sharply nodded and made her way back to the hall. She slowly walked upstairs, passing the numerous family photos that hung on the wall. She shouldered the door to her bedroom open, and was immediately greeted by Streaky, the cat, who unfurled himself from the corner of her bed, and stretched. His head tilted to the side, as pale green eyes met hers. Kara padded along the carpeted floor and moved to lay on the other side of the bed. Streaky clawed at the fabric of the quilt and curled up next to her, and Kara ran her fingers through his soft, black fur.

When they first moved into their new home, Streaky would turn up outside of the glass patio doors, staring at each of the women whilst they unpacked boxes and rearranged furniture. One morning when Eliza had left the doors to the garden open, he wandered in, and curled up on the corner of the rug. Since she had no desire to move him, he came and went as he pleased, and Eliza eventually started to buy him food when she went shopping for groceries, slowly building his trust until he allowed her to pick him up and take him to the vet. Once Eliza found that he was perfectly healthy, but sadly, had not been microchipped, the family posted flyers in the surrounding area until months passed and he had not been claimed, but had found a new home all the same.

Kara scratched the top of his head, “I missed you, too.”

Rather than unpacking the very few clothes she brought along with her, Kara slowly closed her suddenly heavy eyelids, feeling the warmth of the sunlight that filtered in through the window on her skin.

She awoke to darkness, and her bedroom door opened just enough for the cat to leave. Kara sat up and stretched her aching neck. She slipped her feet into a pair of fluffy socks and despite the need to concentrate more on her steps once on the wooden floors of the hall, she swiftly made her way back downstairs to the scent of browning onions.

“Kara, you’re on chopping duty- Alex, make sure you add basil to the sauce,” Eliza directed at the sight of her youngest daughter.

Kara softly smiled and took her place by the chopping board on the kitchen island. Eliza moved around the kitchen with practised ease, collecting wine glasses, cutlery, and plates from their respective cupboards and drawers, and placing them perfectly onto the wooden dining table.

“She said basil, right?” Alex asked, slightly flustered.

“Definitely basil.”

\---

Despite any _almost_ mishaps with Eliza’s famous bolognese sauce, perfect when paired with linguine rather than spaghetti, their first family dinner in months had passed swiftly, with full glasses of red wine, and each of the women still trying to find out the moments they’ve missed. Once the food had been finished, and the majority of the wine had been drunk, Kara and Alex got a head start on washing the dishes.

“There’s this woman who keeps turning up at the bakery at night,” Kara said. “It’s only been on the days when I’m just closing by myself.”

“Who is she?” Alex asked.

“I have no idea. I thought she was going to rob me at first-”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Eliza called from the dining room.

“I was waiting for Eve to stop by with the keys since Thursday is her night off, and she doesn’t trust me with them anymore,” Kara waved her hand dismissively, “but she’d fallen asleep and forgotten, so the bakery was just open, and she walked in. She seems nice enough... prim and proper, but I don’t know- Alex, I was hoping you could run a check on her or something?”

“Yeah, I think I can probably ask J’onn, what’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

Alex poured the remainder of the wine into her glass, “Great.”

“You can figure it out, surely.”

“_You_ don’t even know her name, is there anything about her? A car? Tattoos?”

“I’m hardly that well acquainted with her, but, no. Just dark hair and green eyes-”

“Like Streaky?” Alex asked with a small frown.

“What?”

Alex shook her head, “Are you sure you’re not imagining things?” She lowered her voice, speaking to Kara from the side of her mouth so that their mother wouldn’t hear, “You’re not making edibles again are you?”

Kara rolled her eyes, “I’m telling you she’s real and _you_ know that was an accident because of your dumb college friends.”

“Mhm. Next time she stops by, at least get a name for this totally not imaginary woman.”

“Fine.”

They fell into silence whilst Kara continued to aggressively scrub at the plates and cutlery, and Alex patiently watched.

Whilst she waited for another plate to dry, Alex leaned on the counter and gave her younger sister a searching look, “You really thought she was going to rob you?”

“I mean- yeah- why turn up in the middle of the night?”

“And you didn’t say anything? You could’ve called me and I would’ve-”

“She didn’t rob me,” Kara replied nonchalantly.

Alex straightened her posture, “Does she pay?”

“She did, but it’s not like I’m giving her any special pastries or desserts-”

“Well then there’s nothing wrong with her, she could’ve just left a long-haul flight for all you know and be jet-lagged. All those brownies are making you paranoid.”

Kara playfully slapped her sister’s shoulder, leaving soapsuds on her shirt. “Alex!”

“Did I hear special brownies?” Eliza asked, bringing their empty glasses into the kitchen.

“Yeah- um- I use peanut butter instead of chocolate chips-” Kara began. “It’s a much stronger flavour.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, and I _was_ alive in the seventies. If you do make them, send some to me,” Eliza grinned.

“Oh, me too!” Alex interrupted, “With that cannabutter you make as well-”

Kara released an exasperated breath, “Eliza you’re a doctor! And Alex you work for the government! Your goal is to avoid this- the pair of you!”

Alex pouted, “But if you’re making them-”

“I am _not_ making any pot brownies.”

“Worth a try.” Eliza laughed, and kissed Kara and Alex on the cheek before switching the kettle on. 

\---

Leaving Alex and Eliza downstairs, Kara used the excuse of a shower to return upstairs and avoid further questions for the night. After unpacking her bags and laying them on a nearby chair, she padded along the wooden floors to the bathroom.

She reached for the light switch that instantly illuminated the whole room in a bright, artificial light. Kara deftly removed her clothes, leaving them in a small bundle on the tiled floors. She stepped into the shower and turned the handle, allowing the hot water to warm skin. It was a lot different to her shower in her apartment in London, that allowed a mere ten minutes of full heat if she woke up well before the sun had risen or showered well after the sun had fallen behind the horizon.

It was another thing which Kara reminded herself that needed sorting – she was in need of a new place to live, somewhere that hopefully had a fully functioning elevator that always seemed to stop when . After what seemed like a lifetime, Kara reluctantly turned the shower off and wrapped herself in one of the floral-scented bath towels that hung on the radiator.

Kara looked up from the book she was reading, at the sound of a light knock on her bedroom door. “Come in,”

Clutching two glasses full of large measures of amber liquid, Alex leaned on the frame of Kara’s bedroom door, with a defeated look on her face. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to be so invasive-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kara absentmindedly thumbed at the already worn pages of her book, “I’m not entirely sure it’s actually that important. Do you have scotch?”

Alex’s smile brightened, “You bet I do, the best bottle in the house.”

Kara closed her book and placed it onto her nightstand, gratefully accepting the almost full glass of liquor. “Thank you, I was hoping for something stronger than red wine.”

“I’ve always got your back,” Alex gestured with her glass. Her eyes, swimming with worry flickered up to meet Kara’s, “Are you okay, though?”

Kara shook her head, “Of course I’m okay, but I noticed you kept trying to change the subject about your love life during dinner.”

“That’s because it’s classified, anyway- you said you got a new oven?”

Kara barked a laugh, “Oh it’s the best. It’s all stainless steel, and it’s kind of got two sides to it, and a proving drawer underneath,” she gestured with her index finger toward the ceiling, “it’s pretty high-tech.”

“I bet it is,” Alex smirked.

They spent the rest of night talking about their recent endeavours and plans to invite every person they knew over for a wild house party when Eliza was away. The kind of party they had always spoke about having since they lived in Midvale. In truth, it would’ve turned out to be some type of night in with friends they hadn’t seen in months, full of cheesy, or old black and white movies in the living room downstairs.

When Alex eventually left, Kara was left alone with the quiet crackling of the fire in her room and her own thoughts. With a small huff, she fumbled with the latch of her necklace. She unwound the platinum ring that she had worn since she muttered the word “_yes_” in complete shock on a cold winter night in the Lake District almost a year ago. Kara turned onto her side and pulled at the quilt to bring it closer to her chest. She slowly spun the ring in her hands and slipped it onto her left hand’s ring finger, the first time she had worn it since that day when she first saw it, and admired the way the princess-cut of the diamond sparkled in the low light. Kara wholeheartedly knew she was in love, that much, she was well aware of, but a nagging thought in her mind had constantly told her something was wrong with it as a whole, which she always attributed to the simplicity of nerves. She flexed her fingers, feeling the weight of both the promise she had made and the heavy ring itself, and quickly removed it, tying it back around the silver chain, and leaving it on top of her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm currently on holiday so hopefully that means quicker updates sjsks
> 
> come say hi on twitter or tumblr if you like! i'm @outislanders on both!

**Author's Note:**

> the first bit is from a future event and it's very clear what's going on so no one say there was no warning :)
> 
> come say hi on twitter or tumblr if you like! i'm @outislanders on both
> 
> yes this makes 4 incomplete fics and yes i have no self control but i couldn't help myself


End file.
